


To Be a Hero

by fancyh



Series: Heroes [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Arthur, BAMF Merlin, Detective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Mutual Pining, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Superhero Merlin, Vigilante Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 78,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh
Summary: Chief Detective Inspector Arthur Pendragon is the star of the Camelot police force, the youngest detective inspector in history, and son of Commissioner Uther Pendragon. Emrys is the elusive vigilante with strange powers that Arthur has been chasing for over a year. And Merlin? Merlin is the awkward forensic scientist with a tragic past who just happens to moonlight as said vigilante. But when Arthur stumbles onto a string of murders that just happen to involve sorcerers, truths will be revealed and he will have to decide if Emrys is truly an enemy or a friend-or perhaps, so much more.





	1. Prologue

 

 

Art by [Purpleplums](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleplums/pseuds/Purpleplums)

Link to Artwork: [Emrys](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16231781)

* * *

 

Arthur creeps forwards, readjusting his grip on his gun as his men follow him with soft footfalls and hushed breaths. He looks over his shoulder and holds up three fingers, counting down silently. 

Three.

Two.

One.

They burst through the doors, startling the occupants within, and Arthur feels a surge of frustration. Ten men are sitting on the ground next to the smashed bar, tied up, while the bane of his existence is leaning on the bar and...drinking?

The man sets the glass down and turns, staring straight at Arthur and making him tamp down an involuntary shiver. He's clad in black from head to toe, with sturdy combat boots and an intricate jacket with the hood up and framing his face, black leather gloves on his hands. What looks like part of a ski mask, or perhaps a scarf, is pulled up over his nose leaving only his eyes visible. Eyes that are glowing golden from under the hood, unnatural and unnerving. 

Emrys.

That's his name, or at least his moniker; what the mysterious figure has told every person he's saved and Arthur has interviewed. He's a vigilante, a shadow-an impossibility-doing things that no human should be able to do. Arthur has never believed in the supernatural, or in magic, or in anything besides cold hard facts, but Emrys flies in the face of everything he's ever learned. Emrys is a mystery with terrifying powers and a blatant disregard for the law, and Arthur is determined to solve it. He will bring down Emrys if it's the last thing he does.

Emrys.

That's all he has, a name that leads nowhere except to a man who's been dead for two years. Emrys is alive and well, judging by his presence not ten yards from Arthur and....

No. Not well. Emrys is still leaning heavily on the bar, eyes seeming dimmer than usual, and there's a bloody handprint on the glass he set down even though none of the men seem to be bleeding beyond a few shallow cuts. Emrys' other hand is pressed to his side, and though the fabric is too dark to see any blood there's a disturbance in the solid black, a distortion that could be a rip. Emrys, Arthur concludes, is hurt. 

Arthur keeps his gun trained on the slightly hunched figure.

"Emrys," he says cooly. His men have fanned out, surrounding the bar with guns raised. Of course Emrys had had to disrupt Arthur's takedown of the heads of the most notorious gangs in Camelot. No wonder he'd gotten hurt. These men are vicious. 

"Arthur," Emrys acknowledges, voice strange and disguised the way it always is. The way he says his name sends chills down Arthur's back, a mixture of arousal and fear and niggling familiarity.

"You're surrounded. Give yourself up."

"Seriously? You're going to arrest me? I'm just trying to help." Emrys indicates the trussed men with a sweep of his hand and Arthur's finger twitches on the trigger of his gun. "I haven't done anything wrong," Emrys says, voice almost petulant beneath the layers of distortion. 

Arthur grinds his teeth. "I can think of a few laws you've broken while gallivanting around causing trouble. There's a right way and a wrong way to do things. Whatever your intentions, you're only making things worse."

"Oh really? So last week, saving all those people from a fire? That's making things worse? How about the time I brought down the ring of traffickers your people hadn't been able to catch for years? Let's face it, there's things I can do that none of you can. I'm going to keep helping people whether you like it or not."

"No, you're not. This ends here." Arthur looks around. "Like I said, we've got you surrounded, and from where I'm standing you're not looking too good. Better to give yourself up before you bleed out or my men take you by force. Believe me, that's not something you want."

"No." Emrys stands up with difficulty, all the men tensing. "It really isn't." He sways where he stands, and Arthur has the irrational urge to reach out and steady him. 

Emrys looks straight at Arthur, then closes his eyes. 

And disappears into thin air.

Arthur starts forwards, staring in disbelief at the empty space where Emrys stood a second earlier. He glances at his men to see them in similar states of shock, guns lowering uncertainly as they stand stupefied. 

"Fuck!" Arthur kicks a nearby chair before holstering his gun. He runs a hand through his hair. "Goddamnit. He's gone." 

Another day, another dead end. He's been chasing Emrys for over a year with nothing to show for it. He's the youngest detective inspector on the force, the son of the Commissioner, a prodigy, and yet he can't solve this one case. 

He takes a deep breath, forcing his thoughts into order. His gaze comes to rest on the bloody glass still sitting on the counter and he suddenly feels a surge of hope. Maybe they don't have nothing after all. 

"Collect the blood on the glass," he orders. "Sweep for evidence. And take them in." He gestures to the bound men, who glare back silently. 

Arthur takes another breath, staring at the glass as a small smile works its way onto his face. Emrys made a mistake, and it's going to cost him. Arthur will make sure of it. He'll bring Emrys down or die trying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Purpleplums for doing artwork for this unprompted, and letting me post it with the story! Click the link to check out some of her other work! [Purpleplums](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleplums/pseuds/Purpleplums)


	2. Chapter 2

"-erlin."

"Merlin!"

Merlin groans, cracking his eyes open. Colors swim in his vision, coalescing into a familiar rug. 

He's on the floor. Why is he on the floor?

"Merlin if you don't answer in the next thirty seconds I'm coming over and dragging you to a hospital whether you like it or not-"

"Lance?" he croaks.

The speaker in his ear crackles. "Merlin. Thank God. Are you alright?"

Merlin assesses the burning pain in his side, the way the rug swims in front of his eyes. He's still lying on the floor, and getting up seems an insurmountable task.

"Yep," he lies through gritted teeth.

"What happened?"

Yes, that is the question, Merlin thinks. He squints as he tries to piece together the foggy memories. He'd taken down the gang leaders, but one had managed to clip him in the side with a hidden gun. He's getting sloppy. Then he'd tried to pour alcohol on the wound, he thinks, or maybe tried to drink it, which would make no sense because he can't drink with the mask on. What he does remember is that Arthur and the crew had busted down the doors and tried to arrest him. Ah, and then he'd teleported here and passed out momentarily. Great.

He relays as much to Lance as he peels off his mask, using the fabric to staunch the wound still bleeding sluggishly in his side. He probably shouldn't have tried to use such difficult magic when he was already compromised, but oh well. Better that than sitting in a jail cell with Arthur yelling at him. 

Gods, Arthur. He's been half in love with the prat for ages, ever since he started his job as a forensic scientist in the Camelot police. Arthur was-and still is-condescending, rude, and arrogant, and they'd hated each other at first, but over time they've formed a friendship. A friendship built on lies, though, as Arthur hates everything to do with Emrys and Merlin, well, he just happens to be Emrys. 

He pushes thoughts of Arthur out of his head, concentrating on levering himself up from the floor. Lance bids him a quick goodbye, the sound of sirens filtering through the earpiece as he answers another call.

Merlin's lucky to have Lance. He'd stumbled on Merlin in trouble and saved his life-learning his identity in the process-but swore to keep Merlin's secret. He's a constable with dreams of becoming a detective inspector, but for now he feeds Merlin information from the police scanner and helps cover for him. It helps to have someone on the inside. Merlin is technically on the inside, working for the police, but he's only a crime scene investigator. Lance is a godsend. Plus, he's eternally grateful to Merlin for introducing him to Gwen, a fellow forensic scientist. The two have been dating for months now and are stupidly in love. 

He's not jealous. Really.

He drags himself into his bathroom, stripping off his bloodstained shirt and getting a closer look at the wound in his side. It's a large gash, just below his ribs, and will definitely need stitches, but it's not fatal. 

Merlin sighs and digs out his earpiece, dropping it on the counter. The first-aid kit sits on the counter, mocking him.

With a wad of bandages pressed to his side he shuffles through his apartment, finding his phone on the kitchen counter. He presses the first number on his speed dial.

It rings three times before cutting off.

"What did you do now?" a familiar voice sighs.

"Hello Gaius," Merlin replies. "And why do you always assume I did something?"

"Because you usually did, and you never call me at this time of night unless you need something. Come on, out with it."

Merlin bites his lip, glancing down at the blood slowly soaking through the bandages. "I think I need stitches."

There's an audible sigh. "Of course you do. I'll be over in ten." The line clicks off.

Fifteen minutes later Gaius is sitting in his kitchen, threading a needle through his skin as he winces and tries to hold still. 

"You need to be more careful," Gauis is saying. "I don't want to have to tell your mother that you're dead because of some reckless need to throw yourself into danger. If she knew what you were doing-"

"She can't. She worries too much as it is. Please, Gaius. You swore you wouldn't tell her."

Gaius sighs, fingers pausing in their work. "I did." He raises a threatening eyebrow. "Don't make me regret it."

Merlin nods. "I won't. But this is something I have to do, Gaius. I mean, what's the point of having these powers if I don't use them to help other people? I can't sit around and do nothing."

"You could," Gaius points out. He yanks a suture through and Merlin flinches.

"You know what I mean. I'm not normal.  I don't know why I have these powers, but I can do things other people can't, help people others can't, and that means I have a responsibility to. You-" He looks down at his hands. "You wouldn't understand. After-after Will, and Freya, and-"

Gaius stops, setting a gnarled hand on Merlin's arm and making him look up. "Merlin, I know I can't understand everything you go through, and I'm sorry that you've suffered so much so early in life. But you are like a son to me, and I don't want to see you hurt. For my sake, please, be careful."

Merlin swallows and nods. "Of course, Gaius. And you are more than a father to me." He's his uncle, but he'd practically raised Merlin, and Merlin had only known his real father for a few days before he died. Gaius and his mother are the only family he has left.

Gaius' face softens. He ties off the last suture and cuts it, dabbing the area with disinfectant before plastering a clean bandage over it. Merlin is thankful that, once upon a time, Gaius had gone to medical school, so Merlin is not stuck with his own terrible attempts at stitches. 

"There," Gaius says. "Now, no strenuous activity for a week."

"A  _week?"_

"A few days," Gaius concedes with a knowing look. "Keep it clean, and I'll take the stitches out in a week. Don't exhaust yourself magically, either. Teleporting took a lot out of you."

"I know," Merlin grumbles. "Didn't really have a choice, though."

Gaius pats his arm, standing up and packing away the medical kit. "And try to stay out of trouble."

"I will."

Gaius raises a skeptical eyebrow before heading towards the door. He opens it and pauses, glancing back at Merlin.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you to be careful of Arthur. Don't let him catch you."

"I won't." But even as he says it, he has a sinking sensation in his stomach. For all his arrogance, Arthur truly is a brilliant detective, and Merlin knows he won't stop until he's caught Emrys. 

The thought makes him shudder, the soft sound of the door closing behind Gaius seeming to echo in the quiet of his apartment. For now, Merlin is safe, but he has a feeling that it won't last.

* * *

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Merlin groans, cracking his eyes open. The red numbers of his alarm clock stare back at him, accusing.

_6:45_

He stares, mind still fogged with sleep. Work is at 7:00, he thinks vaguely. That seems important for some reason. The alarm beeps again.

_6:45_

His eyes widen.

Shit.

He's going to be late.

Again.

He throws himself out of bed, forgetting about his wound until pain lances through his side and brings him crashing to the floor. He lies curled for a moment, moaning softly and breathing through his nose until the pain subsides. Finally he scrapes himself off the floor, rifling through drawers and pulling on the first clothes he finds. He's too tired to deal with a shower, and wrapping his wound, and there's no time besides. 

He stumbles into the bathroom and brushes his teeth, every movement tugging on his stitches and making him wince. His reflection makes him grimace, his skin chalk-pale and dark circles underlining his eyes like bruises. He runs a hand through his messy black curls, trying to fluff them into some shape less resembling a birds nest but eventually giving it up as a lost cause. His medicine cabinet bequeaths two Advil that he swallows with a mouthful of orange juice from the carton, grabbing a granola bar on his way out the door. He has to turn around and run back in to get his name-tag, clipping it onto his button-down shirt. 

_6:55,_ his watch informs him.

His ancient car roars to life with a shudder, making Merlin white-knuckle the steering wheel in pain. The car is basically barely kept together and running on magic at this point, but it's cheap and it works. It shudders to a halt in the staff parking lot of Camelot police headquarters ten minutes later, winding down with a horrible sound like screeching gears. 

Merlin jumps out, doing a strange shuffle-jog across the lot as he tries not to jar his side. He scans his ID at the door and rushes in, checking his watch.

_7:08_

Well, he's certainly been later. Hopefully no one will notice, especially not-

"Merlin!"

Shit.

Arthur strides over, shirt clinging to his biceps obscenely and blonde hair perfectly tousled, gleaming in the harsh overhead lights. Merlin gulps with a mixture of fear and arousal as Arthur stops in front of him, crossing his arms.

"Do you happen to know what time is it, Merlin?"

"Um." Merlin glances at his watch again. "Seven-oh-eight."

"And what time were you supposed to be here?"

"Seven."

"Yes, Merlin. So that means that you're..."

"Late."

"Late," Arthur echoes smugly. "For the fourth time this month. That's once a week."

"Yes, your math skills are astounding," Merlin replies dryly.

"Much better than yours, I would say, since you can't even tell time correctly."

"I can tell time!" he protests. "I just overslept, that's all."

"Mmmhmm." Arthur turns away with a small smile playing on his face. "We have a crime scene. We leave in thirty minutes, don't be late."

"Prat."

"I heard that!"

"You were meant to!"

He watches Arthur walk away down the hallway, trying not to stare at the broad expanse of his back. Footsteps sound and Gwaine nudges his shoulder, jerking his head at Arthur's retreating form.

"The princess giving you trouble?"

Merlin rolls his eyes. "When does he not?"

Gwaine grins, sipping from a mug that looks suspiciously like Arthur's. Once a criminal, always a criminal, Merlin thinks. Though Gwaine is plausibly reformed and helping the police, he's still a scoundrel. He's also one of Merlin's closest friends.

"Arthur's going to kill you when he finds out you stole his mug," Merlin says.

Gwaine just grins harder and ruffles his hair. "Let him try." He moves away, turning to walk backwards down the hall. "Now, I have very important things to do that may or may not involve a lock-pick, a handsome detective named Percy, and some cheese. Catch you later." He winks. 

Merlin rolls his eyes, waving Gwaine off and heading into the break room. Gwen is already there, stirring milk into her coffee as she reads a science magazine, dark curls escaping from her bun. She looks up at his entrance, giving him a bright smile.

"Good morning."

"Morning." Merlin moves to the coffee maker, pouring himself a cup from the full pot. Gods bless Gwen.

"Rough morning?" Gwen asks as he carefully sits down in the chair across from her at the small table. 

Merlin grunts in affirmation, taking a fortifying sip of coffee. Gwen's been a forensic scientist here for longer than him, and she was his first friend when he moved to Camelot. Gaius had helped him get the job a little over a year ago, being the head of the forensic science division, but it had been Gwen who had shown him the ropes and truly made him feel welcomed. She'd even been impressed when he stood up to Arthur, who'd only been a constable then and just about the rudest person Merlin had ever met. That she's dating Lance and so obviously happy makes him feel better about lying to her. Lance had wanted to tell her about Merlin, not wanting to keep secrets from her, but Merlin had said no. He knows what happens to people who know his secret, and he can't risk Gwen like that.

"Oh," Gwen says suddenly. "You haven't heard about last night yet, have you?"

Merlin swallows a too-large gulp of coffee, choking slightly. "Um, no, what happened last night?"

"Well, you know how Arthur was running that sting of the gang leaders? That's why he was working late."

Merlin nods, not trusting himself to speak.

"Well, he got there, and Emrys had beat him to it." Gwen leans closer as if imparting a secret. "But, get this, Emrys was injured. They managed to collect a glass with his blood on it. Arthur wants us to run it, see if he's in the system. More importantly, this means we have Emrys' DNA!" She squeals. "This could be a major scientific breakthrough, if we figure out what gives Emrys his powers..."

Merlin tunes her out, frozen in horror. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit-

The blood. 

The blood on the glass.

How could he have been so stupid?

He feels like banging his head against the table. Instead, he keeps his expression carefully neutral as he pretends to listen to Gwen's diatribe on the amazingness of Emrys' powers and what it could mean for science, nodding at various intervals. 

He has to get to that blood first. The good news is that his DNA isn't actually in the system, even though all employees are required to have DNA and fingerprints on file. Gaius had helped him to swap his out for some random person's, afraid that someone would look too closely at Merlin's unique DNA and discover his secret. So even if they run the blood through the system, he won't come up as a match.

Good. Good. He breathes a little easier, fingers relaxing their grip on his mug.

There's still the problem of his blood being out in the world. He trusts that Gwen has good intentions, but not so much anyone else. The knowledge could be used to create weapons to kill him, to harness his power, maybe even to create more of him. The secret of magic would be out in the public, and everyone would either be crying for his death or to use him as a lab rat the rest of his life. Magical people would be hunted even more than they already are. 

No, he can't allow that to happen. 

He'll have to destroy the sample, or switch it out with a normal person's. He supposes it's a good thing he's one of the people who gets to analyze the blood. Never has he been so thankful for his job. 

He lets Gwen ramble until he finishes his coffee, ducking into the lab to quickly see if there's any pressing updates. His blood sits in the centrifuge innocuously, drawing his eye, but he can't do anything about it now. He has a crime scene to get to.

He gathers his gear and waves Gwen off, leaving her to continue lab work while he goes out into the field with Arthur. Normally, it's his favorite part of the job, but his mind is back in the lab with the blood and he just wants to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

He loads his stuff in the back of the van and slides into the seat, Arthur smirking over at him.

"Look at that, you're on time."

Merlin rolls his eyes, covering a wince when he goes to grab his seatbelt. The ride is long and though the van is smoother than his it still jars his side; he has to make a conscious effort not to grip it lest Arthur connect the dots between it and Emrys' injury last night. 

"You're quiet," Arthur comments halfway through, glancing over with something that could be concern. "And you look like shit."

Merlin scowls. "Thanks."

"I'm just saying, for someone who overslept, you look tired. Are you ill?"

Gods, won't Arthur leave it alone? He's too tired and frayed to deflect questions. 

"I was just up late," he says. It's the truth, kind of.

Thankfully, Arthur doesn't question why, just shoots him an unreadable glance and falls silent again. 

When they get to the crime scene it's already buzzing with constables, the area taped off and curious civilians milling around outside. Arthur holds up the tape for Merlin to duck under, steadying his camera around his neck and taking a stilted breath at the pain as he carries his bag over to the body that lies on the ground.

He's mostly hardened to blood and death, but the sight still makes him pause. It appears to be a young man-a boy really-and his body looks like it was....autopsied. Dissected, even. There's a "y" incision on the chest, stitched closed, and needle marks in the crook of each elbow. The eyes are missing, the sockets hollow like they've been scooped out. Veins stand out strangely on the pale skin, bulging and almost black in color. The victim is naked, and there's there's a line of evenly spaced burn marks traveling down his thigh.

It feels...wrong. Something in Merlin's magic rebels, pulsing and writhing beneath his skin uncomfortably. He feels slightly nauseous, even though he hasn't thrown up at a dead body in years.

Guilt pricks at him. If he'd been here, maybe he could have stopped this. Instead he had stayed inside and nursed his wound, and someone had paid the price. Gaius will never understand.  _This_ is why he does it. Because he could have stopped this, and he didn't, and it's all his fault.

He pulls himself out of his downward spiral, snapping a few photos before approaching the body and crouching down to inspect it. Opening his pack he snaps on gloves, taking a few more close-ups of the various wounds before searching for any immediate evidence. Someone else will do the autopsy, but he likes to examine the bodies beforehand. Arthur lets him basically do whatever he wants at crime scenes, trusting by now Merlin's intuition and methods. His magic gives him a helping hand with cases, searching out evidence and giving him a preternatural intuition that seems to baffle Arthur, and after a few cases where he'd been the deciding factor for their success Arthur had agreed to give him full rein. They work well together. 

He lets his magic slip out, feeling the body for clues and ignoring the horrible sensation whenever it brushes against the body. It feels like something poisonous, but underneath he senses a tingle of magic that surprises him before the pieces come together.

Oh.

He's pretty sure he knows exactly who killed the victim, because the victim is a magic user, and there's only one person he knows of who experiments on and kills magic users.

Aredian.

He feels Arthur come up behind him, waiting for his verdict.

"The victim died, by my estimate, around twelve hours ago," Merlin concludes. "But I'm guessing he wasn't killed here. He was probably dead long before he was dumped here. Too soon to say cause of death, especially with the...autopsy, or whatever the hell they did, but there doesn't appear to be any obvious wounds. Judging by the needle marks and veins, I would say death by some injected toxin."

He gets up from his crouch, circling around the body to take more pictures. Arthur pulls out a notepad, scribbling away as he studies the body.

"Organ harvesting?" he muses. "That would explain the eyes, and the incision."

"Maybe," Merlin hedges.

Arthur looks over, narrowing his eyes. "But you don't think so."

Merlin shrugs. "I don't know. Something just seems...off about this."

"Another one of your funny feelings?"

"I guess."

Arthur nods contemplatively. "Alright. I have to admit, your feelings are usually right. I won't rule anything out just yet."

Merlin continues to examine the crime scene, yelling at a couple of new techs when they mess up and making Arthur frown at him in concern. He knows he's acting off but he can't help it. It feels like everything has conspired to make this day as shitty as possible. Not only was he injured and nearly caught by Arthur, but that prevented him from stopping the death of another magic user by Aredian, something that's his utmost priority. He's been hunting the man for over a year but still has nothing, and he feels a sense of crushing failure and grief rising up to swamp him. He should have stopped this. He should have stopped it before, he should have been there when Aredian killed-

No. He can't allow himself to go down that road. Thinking of it only brings grief, and he needs a clear head if he's to figure this out. 

* * *

By the time they get back to the headquarters it's almost noon, and after dropping off all his collected evidence he and Arthur walk to a cafe a few blocks away like they often do. Merlin likes their lunches together normally, though right now he'd rather be anywhere else.

Arthur snags a paper off a nearby stand, sliding into his normal seat and glancing at the cover with a snort. He turns the paper to Merlin.

"Look who made the front page."

_Emrys Takes Down Gang Leaders_

"Oh." Merlin swallows, fingers twitching on the table. "Yeah, I heard about that from Gwen."

Arthur scowls at the newspaper like he wants to set it on fire with his eyes. "I was the one who set up the sting. I was the one who took them in. Emrys just messed everything up."

"What?" Merlin stares at Arthur. "He took down a bunch of gang leaders and no one got hurt."

"Except Emrys," Arthur points out. 

Well, he can't argue with that. He wraps his right hand around his side under the table, feeling the edge of the bandage under his shirt.

Arthur scans the newspaper and scowls again. "And where was Emrys when that boy was killed and dumped like trash? He always talks about helping others, saving the day, but if that's true then where was he?"

Merlin's throat feels too tight, guilt settling heavy in his chest. "He was injured," he says hoarsely. "You said so yourself. And he can't be everywhere."

"I wish I knew where he is right now," Arthur grumbles. "I'd like to give him a piece of my mind. Slippery son of a bitch." He flips through the newspaper, finding the rest of the story as a waitress brings them over their usual orders. 

Merlin picks at his food, stomach still unsettled from the crime scene this morning and the turmoil in his mind. Arthur scoffs at something in the article, finally folding the paper and setting it aside to tuck into his food.

"Bloody Morgana," he says between bites. "I swear, she thinks Emrys is some sort of hero. I thought journalists were supposed to be unbiased?"

Merlin finds it funny-not really-that on one hand, Arthur is trying to arrest Emrys while on the other hand, his half-sister is trying to get the first exclusive interview and expose him. He's not sure which one is more terrifying. If he had to bet, he'd honestly put his money on Morgana figuring out who he is first. Her constant articles about him in the  _Camelot Times -_ which she basically owns-are becoming a problem. 

"Maybe you're just biased," Merlin replies innocently. 

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Don't tell me you believe this drivel about Emrys my harpy of a sister is pushing. The man's no saint, I can tell you that."

Merlin certainly knows that better than Arthur, but he pastes on a smile. "Oh, come on. He's just trying to help."

"Maybe, but there are better ways to help than taking to the streets and meting out vigilante justice. Besides, he's not, you know...normal. He's got superpowers or something. No one even knows if he's human. How do you trust someone like that?"

Merlin looks down at his plate, losing the last vestiges of his appetite. 

"Oh come on," Arthur says after a pause. "Out with it. What's wrong?"

"What?" Merlin looks up. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

"You're a terrible liar, Merlin."

_If only you knew,_ Merlin thinks. 

Arthur leans forward, steepling his fingers as he stares at Merlin. "You've been quiet all day, which is unlike you. I never thought I'd say this but I miss your inane prattle. You're not eating, you're more sulky than usual, and you look like you haven't slept in a week. So what is it?"

Sometimes Merlin truly hates the fact that Arthur is a detective, and a good one. 

"Nothing," he repeats stubbornly. "I'm just tired."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Like I said, terrible liar." He steals Merlin's sandwich and takes a bite. "You might as well tell me. I have it on authority that I'm a great detective, so I'll figure it out eventually."

_That's what I'm afraid of,_ Merlin thinks.

"It's nothing," he says. "Just...leave it, Arthur."

Arthur sits back and throws up his hands, Merlin's sandwich still in his clutches. "Alright. Have it your way." He takes another bite, turning the subject to lighter things, and Merlin relaxes into the easy conversation.

* * *

 When they get back to the lab Gwen is waiting for him, nearly bouncing with excitement. 

"Merlin, it's amazing," she gushes. "I couldn't wait so I started examining Emrys' blood and...well, it's like nothing I've ever seen before."

Merlin tries to rearrange his face into something not panicked. "Really?" he says weakly. 

Gwen grabs his arm, dragging him over to a microscope where she has a drop of blood on the slide and a screen with the rush-order DNA results displayed. Merlin's heart sinks. He should have known Gwen would put a rush on this. Now there's no taking it back without destroying everything in a very suspicious manner.

"Look!" Gwen exclaims. "Tell me that's not the most fascinating thing you've ever seen."

Merlin grudgingly looks, his eyes catching the magic swirling through the drop of blood that's invisible to anyone else. What's visible, though, is the subtle differences in the blood because of the magic. He looks at the screen, intrigued despite himself. He's never actually known what he is, besides magic.

He's human, apparently, or close enough. The fact makes something settle inside him. It appears that he's more...a different strain of human, or perhaps a close species. The results are strange and somewhat unintelligible, as if the machine couldn't quite make sense of what it found.  

"Isn't it amazing?" Gwen asks.

"Yeah." Merlin clears his throat. "Yeah, it is."

Merlin works late, stopping only to grab takeout and split it with Gwen. He knows he won't be able to sit at home without patrolling the streets and he promised Gaius not to strain himself because of his wound. Gwen stays late as well, obsessed with decoding his blood. If anyone can do it, it's her, and while Merlin isn't happy that his blood is here at all he'd rather Gwen be the one to study it. Besides, he can't deny that he's curious. He really doesn't know the secrets of his blood any more than she does, when it comes down to it. 

The DNA and autopsy results for the murder victim come in and Gwen reads over Merlin's shoulder, suddenly gasping. 

"What?"

She reaches over and types into the computer, bringing up his blood results next to the boy's, whose name is Gilli. He's been identified, apparently. Merlin doesn't want to be Arthur, who has to tell his loved ones that he's dead.

"Look." Gwen points at the screen. "See these markers, here? They're extremely similar."

"Oh." Merlin leans forward, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I see that. What do you think it is?"

"I think...don't laugh, but I think it's whatever gives Emrys his superpowers. I've seen those markers before, but I never thought anything of them. Just a genetic mutation; harmless. But listen, what if it's more than that? What if it's a not just a genetic mutation, but  _the_ genetic mutation?"

Merlin stares at her. "Are you saying that...a lot of people have superpowers?"

"No!" Gwen rubs her face. "I mean, I don't know." She takes a breath and points at the screen again. "Okay, look. Gilli has this marker, right? Just this one marker that matches this one, here, in Emrys' DNA. Like a little spot, a smudge on his DNA that seems weird but would normally be dismissed as nothing. But Emrys, he basically is  _made_ of this. Like, he doesn't just have one marker, it's the entire structure of his DNA. He _is_ the mutation, fully fledged. So what I'm saying is that maybe most people only have one marker and they're completely normal, or maybe have a few superpowers, but Emrys is the whole deal."

Merlin stares. "Gwen," he says. "You're a genius."

Gwen beams. 

She really is a genius, with dual degrees in biochemistry and forensic science and a minor in psychology just because she thought it would be fun. She's mostly their lab technician, doing the research and analysis that keeps the lab going while Merlin does most of the fieldwork and brings all the evidence back for her to study. The arrangement suits them. 

Merlin reads the rest of the autopsy report, skimming things like  _unidentified toxin_ and  _torture_ and  _dissection and possible experimentation_ that make his stomach turn. He was right, Gilli was experimented on. He's guessing the strange mixtures of substances had something to do with magic. Maybe Aredian wants to suppress it? That would explain the horrible, slimy feeling he got from Gilli's body and the veins. His magic hadn't liked it even from a distance, and he can't imagine having it in his veins. It probably killed Gilli, he presumes.

"We need to tell Arthur," he says to Gwen. "Tell him there's other people with ma...superpowers besides Emrys. It could help the case."

Gwen nods. "I'm going to try and find all the past reports with that genetic marker I can. I want to see what we're dealing with here. If I'm right, then there's a lot more people with that marker-and possibly with superpowers-than we think." She pauses, looking thoughtful. "But not like Emrys. I'm not sure there is anyone quite like him, not that I've seen anyway."

"No," Merlin replies tiredly. "No, I don't think so. I think Emrys is alone."

* * *

Merlin shuffles in the door, locking it behind him and throwing his keys on the counter. His side throbs, reminding him that he hasn't taken pain meds since he asked Gwen for some after lunch, feigning a headache. He quickly finds the bottle, downing two more with a glass of water as he sets to changing the bandage. Getting his shirt off is made easier by the fact that it's a button-up, but it still takes him twice as long as usual and he's grimacing by the end.

He peels off the bandage, peering at the neat stitches below and thankful that the wound seems to have stopped bleeding. With careful fingers he cleans it and then puts on a new bandage, wrapping his entire torso in plastic wrap that he keeps for just these occasions. People at work think he's chronically clumsy, with how often he gets injuries, even though they're usually minor. His magic means that very few people ever get close enough to touch him, but there's the occasional gunshot and punch and thrown knife he doesn't have time to deflect as well as simply falling off high places or running into things. He really is clumsy, which makes trying to leap from rooftop to rooftop an exercise in bruises.

Plastic wrap in place he heads for the bathroom and undresses completely, stepping into the shower. The hot spray eases the tight knot of muscles on his back and quiets his worries for a moment, the gentle sound of water hitting the tiles and the steam rolling around him lulling him into a state of sleepiness. He has to shake himself awake to wash his hair, using a nudge of magic to keep the water hot when it begins to run cold. When he's thoroughly wrinkled and warm he shuts off the water, stepping out and wrapping himself in a fluffy towel. As much as he feels guilty about not being out on the streets, having a night just to relax and sleep is heaven. 

He dresses in soft pajamas and unwraps the plastic from his torso, checking that the bandage is secure before falling into bed. He barely remembers to set his alarm before he sinks into sleep, dreams filled with gunshots and screams and Gilli's empty sockets, staring at him accusingly. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know anything about England's police or CSI, or about genetics. I looked up enough to use a few police terms but I'm American and so I'm not sure anything in here is actually correct. If you find something to fix, let me know in the comments, or else we'll all just suspend disbelief because there's magic in this story so anything else can be believable. Magic in DNA? Sure! I'm making it a thing.
> 
> Also my Merlin looks like Colin Morgan in the Fall, who is *swoons* Look it up, you won't be disappointed.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur checks the time on his watch, smiling slightly as he watches Merlin amble through the doors. He pushes off the wall, moving to intercept him as he makes for the break room.

"Ten minutes early," he says, falling into step with Merlin.

Merlin looks sideways at him and rolls his eyes. "Excellent observation. Maybe one day you'll be a good inspector."

Arthur elbows Merlin, startled when Merlin yelps in pain and stumbles, hand curling around his side.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asks. While Merlin looks better than the day before, he's still too pale and the dark circles under his eyes are too prominent. His hair is less of a bird's nest today, though Arthur has to squash the temptation to run his fingers through the unruly locks.

Arthur itches to figure out what's been bothering Merlin, but he seems to have clammed up tighter than a suspect calling for his lawyer. It's infuriating. 

Merlin nods, shooting Arthur a weak smile he doesn't buy for an instant. "Fine. Just have a bruise."

Arthur huffs out a slightly relieved laugh. Of course. "What did you do this time, Merlin?"

"Oh I, uh, I tripped. Over a, um, a chair. And fell. On it. And it bruised my side."

"I swear, you are the most clumsy person I have ever met. It's a wonder you're still alive."

"Thanks."

They reach the break room and Arthur follows Merlin inside, saying good morning to Gwen and the rest of the men who are clustered inside fighting over a box of donuts. They're squabbling like children, but Arthur knows that they'll all be at their desks and ready to work by seven so he doesn't mind. They're all brilliant detectives-besides Gwaine, their CI-and he trusts them with his life. 

"I swear I didn't take the powdered one," Gwaine is saying. "Come on, you're just stereotyping. Just because I was, allegedly, a thief doesn't mean I stole your donut-"

"You have powder on your chin!" Elyan protests. 

"Percy, sweet cheeks, help me out here-"

Percy smiles indulgently, large form leaning against the counter as he sips tea from a mug that reads _world's best detective._ "I'm not getting in the middle of this." 

"Leon, come on, you're a man of honor-"

"I didn't know you knew the concept," Elyan mutters.

"Children, please," Leon groans, running a hand through his curls. "Have mercy. It's not even seven."

Arthur grabs the box of donuts, peering in to find only two left. He closes the lid, tucking the box under his arm.

"Gentlemen," he says. "The rest of the donuts are now mine. Gwaine, you have to buy donuts tomorrow. No-don't protest, we all know you stole the powdered one. All of you, get out of here before you burn the place down."

The men all roll their eyes good-naturedly and start to file out, Gwaine ruffling Merlin's hair and Elyan flicking one of his sister's curls with a smile. When the break room finally empties Arthur sighs, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting down with the box of donuts. He breaks a piece off one and hands it over to Merlin wordlessly, relishing in the momentary peace before the day begins. 

"So," Merlin starts, licking a few crumbs off his lips as Arthur tries not to stare. "Gwen and I have something to tell you. We-well, Gwen really-made a breakthrough."

Arthur perks up. "What is it? Is it about Emrys?"

Merlin nods. "And the recent murder victim."

"They're connected?" Arthur guesses.

Merlin nods again. "Yeah. It's-" He looks at Gwen. "Just hear us out, I know it's going to sound crazy, but-"

"Just spit it out, Merlin. It can't be worse than all the usual rubbish you spout."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Okay, so basically, Emrys has superpowers."

Arthur stares. "Yes, that's a very keen observation, Merlin. However did you come by that?"

"Oh bollocks, I'm not explaining this right. Gwen?"

"I studied Emrys' blood," Gwen says. "And it was different than anything I've seen before. The DNA structure was unique. But then I studied Gilli's blood-the victim," she clarifies. "And I found a marker in his DNA that is similar to Emrys. I realized that I've seen the marker before, but I always thought it was a negligent genetic mutation. Now, I'm not sure. While Gilli had the marker, the structure of it was basically what made up the entirety of Emrys' DNA. We think that the more markers someone has, the more....superpowers, I guess you could say, they have."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "That sounds..."

"Far-fetched, I know. But it makes sense. I think we're looking at a genetic mutation that most people barely notice, but that a few, like Emrys, are quite aware of. Emrys is the mutation in its fullest form."

Arthur is a skeptic, a firm believer in facts and science, but what he's seen Emrys do can't be denied. The man has, for lack of a better word, superpowers. If Gwen thinks she can explain that with science, all the better for it.

"Alright." He nods. "Say I believe you. Are you saying the victim had superpowers?"

Merlin shrugs. "Maybe. Probably not enough to light a candle, but he had it. Them."

Arthur ignores the strange wording. "And you said there are others?"

"Yes." Gwen looks ecstatic. "I'm working on finding all the cases with that genetic marker."

"Good. Let me know when you have a list." His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, grimacing at the caller ID. "My father is calling. I'll check back in with you later."

He stands up, exiting the break room as he answers the phone.

"Father."

"Arthur. I need to see you in my office. Now."

He suppresses a sigh. "Of course."

The line clicks off and he shoves his phone back into his pocket, making his way towards Uther's office. A perfunctory knock and Uther calls out "Come in."

Arthur enters, keeping his back ramrod straight and hands clasped behind him like Uther had taught him. 

"Close the door and take a seat," Uther orders.

Arthur does as he's told, feeling suddenly nervous. Though he's twenty-five Uther can still make him feel like a child, and all his carefully built confidence goes out the window in his presence. His father isn't a bad man, or even a bad father, but after Arthur's mother died it seems all the softness in Uther died as well, replaced by coldness and logic. The lines of his face are hard, pale green eyes that are a match for Morgana's shrewd and uncompromising. A faint scar runs from his hairline to just above his right eyebrow from a suspect's knife. He'd been a great detective when he was young, and is now an even better Commissioner, albeit a terrifying one.

His office matches his personality, Arthur thinks, everything neat and orderly and devoid of life. The mahogany desk is shined to perfection, not a speck of dust in sight, the space bare of the photographs or sentimental items that most people have. For God's sake, even Arthur has pictures of him and his men on the desk along with a photo of him and Morgana. The floor is bare and free of scuff marks, making Arthur conscious of his shoes, and the bare walls are a drab beige that does nothing to help the atmosphere of coldness that hangs over the room. The chair Arthur sits in is hard and uncomfortable, and he spares a moment to wonder if Uther has it on purpose to intimidate anyone who sits across from him.

Arthur tries to still the nervous wringing of his hands in his lap, waiting for his father to speak. Uther seems to deliberate, and Arthur feels a cold sweat break over his body. Did he do something wrong? Is he getting demoted?

Finally Uther leans forward on the desk, clasping his hands in front of him. 

"You've been chasing Emrys for a while," he says.

Arthur swallows. "Yes."

"And I'm sure his...abilities have not escaped you."

"No, father."

Uther sighs. "I thought it best to keep you sheltered, growing up, but I think the time has come for you to know the truth, especially if you wish to take over my job some day."

"Father?" Now Arthur is worried. What truth?

"I have known about Emrys and those like him for a while," Uther says. "They call their abilities magic, and those who use it sorcerers. Most have little real power, limited to parlor tricks and sleight of hand, but some have significant abilities that can prove dangerous. Their powers come to them in puberty."

Uther pauses. Arthur stares, too stunned to say anything, and Uther plows on.

"I've kept an eye on the magical community for many years and helped to keep their powers hidden from the public. However, Emrys has forcibly shattered this secrecy, exposing his powers to the world. He's dangerous, Arthur. From what I hear, he's more powerful than any sorcerer I've ever encountered. I should have told you this long before, instead of letting you ineffectually try to arrest him for over a year. But-"

He sighs, looking older than Arthur has ever seen him.

"I wanted to shelter you for as long as possible. The truth is, your mother was killed by a sorceress."

Arthur feels like the breath has been punched from him.

"What?" he croaks. "You said-you said she died in childbirth."

"She did. But it was the witch that caused her death. She said that she would help Igraine to conceive, but she never told us that the price for that was her life."

Arthur puts his head in his hands, trying to wrap his mind around everything his father is telling him. His father had known, all this time, and he'd kept Arthur in the dark. His own mother had been killed, and all this time Arthur thought it was his fault.

"I'm sorry," Uther says, making Arthur lift his head in surprise. His father never apologizes. "I should have told you earlier. I just wanted to spare you the pain of knowledge that I have lived with all these years. But Emrys' continued antics and the recent death have convinced me that it's time for you to know."

"I understand, father." Arthur swallows, mind still reeling. He straightens in his chair and takes a deep breath. "Tell me everything."

* * *

Arthur sits in his office, staring at the pile of reports in front of him without really seeing them. His father's words swirl around his mind, pounding against his skull and giving him a headache. 

Magic is real. Superpowers are real. And his father knows about them. 

He pulls out the vials his father had given him, staring at the black contents. Magic suppressant, his father had said. Given to sorcerers they arrest to prevent them from using their powers. To take down Emrys, he'll need to shoot him with a dart full of it. Emrys won't be caught by conventional means, not with all the power at his disposal. He's dangerous, Uther had said. They all are. Sorcerers are dangerous and untrustworthy and unnatural. 

For some reason, something in him rebels at that. Surely not all sorcerers are bad? They're just people who-according to Gwen-have a genetic mutation. They didn't choose their powers. Uther's apparent dislike of them seems nothing more than bigotry built on fear and ignorance and grief. He's blaming all sorcerers for the actions of one, or a few. It's no different from racism, or sexism, or homophobia, just more subtle and hidden from the public.

Besides, the victim-Gilli-had apparently been a sorcerer. Not a very powerful one, with barely any magic, but one nevertheless. Uther has records of all the known sorcerers in Camelot, and Gilli was on the list. For all his dislike of sorcerers, Uther has done a good job protecting them from exposure and handling magical crimes. Sorcerers are tried only for the crime they commit, not how they do it, and kept on magic suppressant the rest of their life while in jail, making them just like anyone else.

It's a good system, though Arthur wonders if maybe things would be better if people knew about magic. Surely it must be hard for sorcerers to hide who they are their entire life, and terrifying to go through puberty and suddenly develop powers. Harder still for those without magical parents, who don't know what's happening to them. Uther tries to keep track of every new sorcerer, combing school records for unusual instances and sending a representative to talk to the kids and ensure their secrecy, but surely there are a few who slip through the net. 

Like Emrys. Balinor Emrys had been a powerful sorcerer, according to Uther, but he'd died two years ago and there was no next of kin. Arthur finds it interesting that Balinor was murdered, and that Emrys appeared in Camelot less than a year later. They must have missed something, because there's a definite connection there. Maybe Balinor had a brother, or even a son. 

Arthur frowns. If that was so, if Emrys is related to Balinor, then surely it would have come up when they ran his DNA? He pushes over to his computer, typing in Balinor's name. The profile comes up, but it's been removed from the system. Strange. 

The case was open and shut, a simple mugging gone wrong that left Balinor with a gunshot wound and the mugger fleeing. He was never caught. If Arthur's right, and Balinor was related to Emrys, surely someone would have seen the mutations in the DNA that Gwen talked about?

He looks at the report showing who did the case and finds that Gaius himself had done the forensic analysis. Also strange, since Gaius has been the head of the forensic division for years and rarely does any actual fieldwork, but it makes some sense since his father had said that Gaius handles forensics for blatantly magic crimes. Except Emrys, apparently. He looks further, seeing the detective on the case.

Kilgharrah.

Even stranger. Kilgharrah is the superintendent, usually only sweeping in to criticize them all before disappearing again; most importantly, according to Uther, he is in charge of magical crimes. 

It would make sense that Uther would assign the people for magical crimes to the case if Balinor's death was explicitly magical, but it seems to be a simple mugging. Besides covering up the DNA, which would be easy for Gaius, he doesn't see any reason why both of them would have to take the case. 

And why had Balinor been killed in the first place? Surely, if he was as powerful as Uther said, he could have defended himself from a simple mugging?

More importantly, Arthur's not sure why the DNA has been taken out of the system and he needs to correct it. He rushes over to the lab, finding Merlin busy writing up forensic reports while Gwen studies something under a microscope.

"I need to use your computer," he says without preamble.

Merlin looks up, scooting over to give him access to the computer. Arthur pulls up a chair, going into the forensic database that's already open under Merlin's credentials and manually inserting Balinor's DNA profile back into the automatic matching system. Beside him, Merlin stills.

"What are you...?"

He finds Emrys' DNA and runs it against Balinor's, watching as the screen blinks and lines draw between the two. After a minute it beeps, the result coming up on the screen.

_Familial match 95%_

Arthur grins. 

Gwen leans over his shoulder to peer at the screen, gasping.

"Look!" She points at something in the results that Arthur can't decipher. "There's the markers! There's so many more here than the others. It's almost like Emrys' except not quite as much."

So Emrys is more powerful than Balinor was. Arthur files this information away for later contemplation. 

"This is incredible," Gwen gushes. "A familial match. This proves that the trait is hereditary, and that the mutation can be stronger. And oh!" She looks at Arthur. "Does this mean we know who Emrys is?"

Arthur sighs and shakes his head. "Unfortunately not. I'd bet on Emrys being Balinor's son, but there's no records of him having any family. There's not even anyone with the last name 'Emrys' anywhere. I'm going to do some canvassing, maybe try some orphanages, but I doubt I'll get anything more than I have the past year."

"I can look more into Balinor's DNA," Gwen offers. "See if I find anything. Oh, and I'll let you know if we get anything from Gilli's case. So far there's nothing. Whoever did this knew what they were doing."

Arthur's mouth flattens into a thin line. "Thanks, Gwen. I'm off to pay a visit to Morgana."

Gwen smiles. "Say hello to her for me."

"Will do." Arthur turns to leave, sparing a glance for Merlin who is still sitting and staring at the screen, face pale. He shakes his head as he leaves, used to Merlin's strange moods that come and go. Eventually he'll wheedle out what's been bothering Merlin, but it's better to wait for the right time.

In the year and five months that Arthur has known Merlin he's never quite figured him out, but surprisingly it doesn't bother him. He accepts Merlin's eccentricities-his lateness, his clumsiness, his idiocy countered only by spurts of incredible brilliance-and, if he's being honest with himself, he's grown to quite like Merlin. While at first he'd rubbed him the wrong way, butting heads with Arthur and constantly challenging him, now he appreciates the way Merlin never lets him get away with things. Arthur has stopped yelling at the green constables as much, has stopped verbally abusing the secretaries, has stopped being so much of _a prat,_ according to Merlin. He's become a better inspector and, dare he say it, a better person because of Merlin.  

Of course, he'd never tell Merlin any of that. Just like he'd never tell Merlin that he may be slightly in love with him. Merlin's never given any indication that he sees Arthur that way, and Arthur doesn't want to ruin their friendship. So he endures Merlin's blue eyes and fluffy hair and perfect cheekbones and cheery smile, and insults Merlin every chance he gets, and if he maybe wanks too often to the thought of Merlin's slender form under him then that's no one's business but him. 

It's torture. Sheer, unending torture.

* * *

The headquarters of  _The Camelot Times_ is bustling with harried journalists and terrified looking copy boys, the gleaming walls of the building catching the early afternoon sunlight and reflecting it in dazzling rays. Morgana's office is on the top floor, next to the office of the editor-in chief (and Morgana's half sister) Morgause. Arthur strides past Morgana's hapless secretary, ignoring the woman's squawks, and steps into Morgana's office to find her sitting behind her desk waiting for him. 

Her dark hair flows in perfect waves down her shoulders, manicured nails drumming on the surface of her desk and green eyes fixed on him knowingly, a small smirk curling her red lips. Sunlight streams through the glass windows behind the desk, highlighting the exquisite decor and the framed newspaper articles lining the inner wall. 

"Welcome, dear brother," Morgana says with her usual flair. "What brings you to this side of the city?"

"Can't a brother just visit his sister?" Arthur shoots back, flopping into the chair across from her.

Morgana raises an eyebrow. "You're here on a weekday, Arthur. It must be important."

"I'm surprised you don't already know."

Morgana just smirks, giving nothing away. "Indulge me. What's got your knickers in a twist?"

Arthur shoots her a glare. "You, and your stories."

"Emrys," Morgana deduces. "You're upset because he's stealing your spotlight."

"What-that's-no!" Arthur sputters. "He's not...stealing my spotlight. He's a criminal, and you need to stop painting him like a hero."

"No one's painting anything," Morgana counters calmly. "I simply report the news."

"You know that's not true. You can make anyone believe anything with just a few words. Don't tell me you aren't putting a positive spin on this, or that your intentions are honorable. I know you're just angling for a Pulitzer, and you think if you get the first expose on Emrys it'll make it happen."

"Maybe. But why is that any of your business? The people love it. The paper is doing better than ever. What's the harm in giving people a hero?"

Arthur leans forward. "Because he'll let them down eventually, and when that happens everything is going to collapse." He sighs, knowing he can't hide anything from Morgana. "Listen, Morgana, there's things you don't know. Emrys isn't...he's not the only one with superpowers, apparently. By exposing him you're exposing an entire community that's been kept secret for years."

Morgana just stares back at him evenly. "I know."

Arthur gapes. "You-you  _know?"_

"Yes, Arthur, I've known for a while. That's another reason I'm doing this. People deserve to know the truth. They deserve to know that magic is real, and that it can be used for good."

"Magic." Arthur narrows his eyes. "You used the word magic, not superpowers. How did you know?"

Morgana waves a hand. "That's not important. Just assume I know everything, Arthur. I'm guessing Uther just told you?"

Arthur pouts, sinking down in his chair slightly and feeling resentful that Morgana had known as well and never told him. "Yeah."

Morgana almost looks sympathetic. Almost. "I'm sorry," she says. "I know it must be a shock. But trust me when I say that I'm doing this for the magical community. They've spent too long hiding in fear. And if I get a Pulitzer out of it, all the better for me."

"Father won't be happy."

"Since when have I cared what Uther thinks? He's the one that's made sorcerers hide their powers, who has kept them second-class citizens."

"Second-class citizens? Morgana, I think you're going a bit far."

"Am I? These people live every day in fear that they'll be discovered, that the world will reject them or want to study them like lab rats. Children discover their powers and don't know what's happening to them, afraid to even turn to their loved ones for help. You don't have magic. You couldn't possibly hope to understand, Arthur."

"And you do?"

Morgana falls silent, nails digging into the desk briefly before she composes herself again. 

"I'm just saying, I've talked to a fair number of magic users, and they deserve to live openly. And I don't care what Uther thinks. I know he sent you here to try and stop me, don't deny it. He's afraid of what will happen if magic users are free. He hates them."

Arthur looks down at her lap, knowing that Morgana is right. Uther had told him to stop Morgana from publishing any stories that would expose magic. But he's not sure if Morgana or Uther is right when it comes to secrecy. Didn't the secrecy help to protect sorcerers? If they were public, they may be subject to hate crimes, attempts to experiment on them. People would turn to magic for every small thing. On the extreme end, sorcerers could end up enslaved, consigned by the government to using their powers for the country.

"What if sorcerers don't want to be exposed?" he questions, looking up at Morgana. "What if by exposing them, you're only making things worse?"

"If some want to keep hiding who they are, then they can," Morgana responds. "That's their choice. But they deserve to be able to be themselves openly, just as say, gay or trans people do. Yes, there will be problems, there will be hatred and fear, but sometimes you've got to just do what you think is right and damn the consequences, Arthur."

Arthur is silent a moment. "Alright," he finally says. "I won't stop you. Just...be careful. I don't want you to get hurt because you got caught up in some magical war."

Morgana smiles. "Oh Arthur," she says. "I didn't know you cared."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Harpy." He gets up. "And stop writing about bloody Emrys so much."

Morgana sniffs. "You're intolerable."

* * *

The day passes in a blur of paperwork and dead ends. Arthur goes through Balinor's file over and over but it remains as elusive as ever, and Gilli's case is almost even more frustrating. There's no physical evidence, no DNA, no fingerprints, no witnesses, no security camera footage; nothing that could point to who did it. He was a college student, and according to everyone he'd simply gone to a party and never came back. In the chaos and drunkenness of the party no one noticed that he was gone until the next day. Two days later, they had found him dead. 

Gilli's sobbing parents fill Arthur's vision, their faces a rictus of grief. Gilli was a good boy, his mother had said tearfully. He was a good student, a good person. She had no idea why someone would do this. 

Arthur considers that maybe Gilli's magic had something to do with his death. He looked to be experimented on, is what the autopsy said. Maybe someone had figured out his magic and tried to study him? The thought is horrifying, but it's the only lead he has.

He works until dinnertime, when the rumbling of his stomach reminds him to eat. As he makes to leave he passes the lab, seeing a light still on and Merlin working alone at his desk. Arthur pauses, and then picks up his phone, ordering a pizza.

When the pizza arrives he brings it to the break room, popping his head into the lab.

"Merlin," he calls.

Merlin looks over, seeming startled by the interruption.

"Arthur?"

Arthur jerks his head towards the hallway. "Come on. I ordered pizza."

Merlin sighs. "I have work to finish."

"Nope. You can finish it tomorrow. You've been in here all day. Come on." Arthur strides into the lab, grabbing Merlin's arm and pulling him away from the computer. The rolling chair glides across the floor, Merlin staying stubbornly put and dragging his heels on the floor to slow the chair's progress.

"Arthur!" he whines. "No!"

"You're eating, and that's an order." Arthur yanks, pulling Merlin out of the rolling chair and onto his feet. Merlin stumbles, falling forwards, and Arthur reaches out to catch him, hands gripping Merlin's shoulders. Merlin's face stops an inch away from Arthur's own, blue eyes wide and startled. 

They both freeze for a moment, staring at each other. Arthur's gaze flicks down to Merlin's lips, slightly parted and chapped from the dry air of the lab. His eyes meet Merlin's again just in time to see Merlin mirror the action, pupils dilating. Tension hangs thick in the air between them, the heat of Merlin's shoulders seeping through to Arthur's hands. 

Merlin suddenly seems to break out of his trance and pulls away, pale skin flushing red. Arthur feels a surge of disappointment at the rejection but keeps his face blank, clearing his throat. 

"Shall we?"

Merlin nods wordlessly and Arthur leads the way to the break room, cursing himself. They sit down on opposite sides, grabbing slices of pizza. The pizza is split into a dignified cheese and pepperoni on one side, which Arthur insists is the gold standard of pizza, while the other side is a travesty of ham and pineapple.

Merlin beams, eyes crinkling in a way that makes Arthur's heart stutter.

"You remembered my order!"

Arthur rolls his eyes. "It's hard to forget, Merlin. No sane person puts pineapple on pizza."

"Pineapple belongs on pizza," Merlin asserts, taking a large bite of his slice. A bit of sauce drips down his chin and Arthur traces its path, transfixed, until Merlin swipes it away with his tongue. Arthur swallows a too-large bite of pizza and promptly chokes.

"Pineapple does not belong on pizza," he counters, once he's regained the ability to breathe. "It's a fruit."

"So are tomatoes."

"That's different."

"Oh really?" Merlin's eyes sparkle. "Please, do enlighten me."

"Shut up, Merlin. I stand by my values. Pineapple on pizza is an abomination."

Merlin proceeds to shove the entire rest of the slice in his mouth as he stares at Arthur. Arthur tries to breathe and thinks ripping off his fingernails would be less torture.

At least Merlin seems to be in a better mood. It's just about the only thing that's gone right today, Arthur thinks. 

He ponders telling Merlin the truth about magic. He and Gwen already know in a scientific sense, so there's really no point in prolonging the inevitable. Besides, he trusts Merlin more than almost anyone. 

"Merlin," he starts. "You know the research you and Gwen have been doing into Emrys and superpowers?"

Merlin immediately sobers, eyes losing their sparkle, and Arthur curses himself again for ruining the moment. 

"Yeah." Merlin fingers his slice of pizza. "What about it?"

"What if I told you that my father has known about this for a while? About the existence of super-powered people, I mean."

Merlin shrugs, scanning Arthur's face carefully. "I wouldn't be surprised."

Arthur nods. Merlin is smart, it makes sense that he would figure out someone had to have known before. "My father calls it magic," he says. "But Gwen said...I mean it's science, right?"

Merlin nods. "Magic, science, it's all the same thing. Magic is just science we don't understand yet. But it helps to think of it that way."

"Yeah." Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose. "God, I can't believe this is an actual conversation I'm having. Magic. A year ago, I wouldn't have believed it."

"What changed?"

"Emrys. I mean, the things he does....there's no explanation for that except magic."

Merlin ducks his head. "And you still want to arrest him."

Arthur frowns at Merlin. "Of course. I'm not going to stop just because I have proof he really is supernatural. Besides, now that I'm in the know, I know how to stop him."

Merlin stills with a slice halfway to his mouth. "You do?"

"Yep." Arthur grins, pulling out the vial from his pocket and setting it on the table.

Merlin leans back, staring at it with wide eyes. "What is that?"

"Magic suppressant. My father uses it. It makes it so sorcerers can't use their magic if they're arrested for a crime. Otherwise they'd all be breaking out of jail. All I have to do is get a good shot and stick Emrys with this. Then I can arrest him as easily as any normal person, and he can't teleport away or whatever he does."

Merlin visibly swallows, looking at the vial with trepidation and something else, something almost like fear in his eyes. He looks slightly green. "Oh," he says. "That's...."

Arthur sighs. "Oh, don't sulk. I know you're a fan of Emrys, God knows why. But you didn't really think I was going to let him keep running around, did you? I'll catch him eventually. It's my job." He pockets the vial again, and the lines in Merlin's face smooth imperceptibly.

"I know. Just..." Merlin sighs. "I know. I just think he's trying to help."

"You sound like Morgana. She hero-worships Emrys too. She wants to expose the whole magic thing, bring sorcerers out into the open."

Merlin sits up straighter. "Wait, she wants to expose everything? Not just Emrys?" 

Arthur nods. "Yep. Apparently she already knows everything about magic. She wants sorcerers to live openly, not hide in fear. I tried to convince her otherwise but once Morgana is set on something, she won't budge. Even more so if she knows it will make father angry."

Merlin looks to be deep in thought. "Huh," he finally says. He takes another bite of pizza. "Interesting."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "All that, and your response is 'interesting'?" 

Merlin shrugs. "I'm not sure what you want me to say. I'm not sure if what she's planning is necessarily a good thing or a bad thing yet. We'll just have to wait and see."

"Can you imagine the whole city knowing about magic? Sorcerers just...walking down the street?"

"They already do," Merlin points out. "You just don't know it."

"True." Arthur takes a sip of water from his water bottle. "But it would be different, having them live openly. Some things might be better, but some might be worse."

Merlin shrugs. "Like I said, I guess we'll have to wait and see."

Arthur nods, drumming his fingers softly on the table in an imitation of Morgana. "I don't-" he starts.

Merlin leans forward on the table, pinning him with clear blue eyes. "What?" he asks softly.

"My father said...." Arthur takes a breath. "He said magic killed my mother."

"Oh." Merlin reaches across, setting his hand on top of Arthur's. "Arthur, I'm sorry."

"So that's why he-why he hates magic. And I guess I should too, but...I don't know. I think of Gilli and I just think...he wasn't evil. He was just a boy who happened to have a genetic mutation. Magic. Hating him for that, or...killing him, is wrong. But I don't know what to think. I mean, I just learned that magic is real this morning." He huffs a forced laugh. "I don't know what to do, Merlin."

Merlin squeezes his hand. "I think you do."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's not much action yet but there's a lot to set up for this story. It's a slow build. As always, comments are appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin shimmies into his black tac pants, securing the zipper and checking that the various pockets are secure and his small knives are strapped to his thighs. The black t-shirt is next, painfully pulled over his head and over the bandages on his side. He slides his socked feet into his, double-knotting the laces and rubbing a smudge of dirt off with his finger, and grabs the earpiece on the table. He works it into his ear and taps once, turning on the connection. Pulling the soft fabric of the black bandana up over his nose he secures it behind his head, slipping on his jacket and raising the hood so it fits snugly around his head, the front zipper drawn all the way up and bandana tucked inside. He pulls on his leather gloves and slides two more knives and zip-ties into pockets in the jacket, within reach.

Satisfied, he closes his eyes, focusing on the magic that roils within him and concentrating on where he wants to go. There's a pressure, a pop, and then he's standing on a dark rooftop looking out over the city. He breathes in the night air, drinking in the sight of the lights twinkling in the darkness. Camelot sprawls out before him, beautiful and glimmering, a few skyscrapers pushing up through older buildings like dandelions in summer. In the distance, the top of the  _Camelot Times_ glints, moonlight glancing off the metal form of a dragon in flight. He can see the police headquarters to his left, the large rectangular building standing out like a monolith against the more slender buildings around it. 

He sends a tingle of magic out to boost his earpiece, making Lance's speaker crackle.

"Merlin? That you?" comes Lance's voice through his earpiece.

Merlin grins. "Hello, Lance. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Weren't you just bleeding out a couple nights ago?"

"It was just a scratch."

"I very much doubt that. Are you sure you should be out?"

"I'm fine, Lance. I have my magic. I don't have to do anything strenuous." He knows he shouldn't be out, he had promised Gaius, but after Gilli the itch won't leave him alone. He just has to make sure.

"You and I have very different definitions of strenuous."

Merlin laughs, sitting down on the edge of the rooftop and swinging his legs off the edge. "Anything new?"

"Not really. It's a slow night."

"I"m sorry you have to work nights. I know you barely get to see Gwen."

There's an audible sigh through the speakers. "Yeah, but it's my job. As long as I'm helping people, I don't care. Besides, when I finally become an inspector I'll be able to see Gwen every day."

"I'm sure it'll be soon. You're a good cop, Lance. And it'll be fun to actually work with you in the same building."

"Ah yes, your day job. I'm looking forward to seeing Merlin Ambrosius, forensic scientist, in all his nerdy glory."

"Rude."

Lance laughs. "I'm serious. It'll be fun seeing that side of you. I mostly just see Emrys."

Merlin tips his head up, staring at the faint stars nearly drowned out by light pollution. "Emrys is me, Lance."

"I know." Lance is silent for a moment. "But do you ever think...I mean, you have two different identities, and everyone only knows either one side or the other, never both. Do you ever think about, you know, telling someone?"

"Someone other than you?"

"Yeah."

Merlin swallows, feeling the familiar grief rise up to choke him. "No."

"Why not?"

"I can't."

"That's not a good enough answer."

"Lance, just...I can't. It's too dangerous." He stands up, pacing on the rooftop and ignoring the twinges of pain from his side.

"You lost someone," Lance says softly. It's not a question.

Merlin blinks back the hot sting of tears, not responding. He sees Will's eyes staring up at him in terror, face twisted in pain.  _I'm scared, Merlin. Merlin, I'm scared._ He sees Freya's bloodstained smile, he sees his father's hand reaching for him, he sees his own hands stained with blood.

"It doesn't matter," he says abruptly. "If anyone knew, they'd turn me in. Arthur is hunting me down, and now he has the means to do it. His father told him about magic."

"How did he take it?"

"About how you'd expect. But this is serious, Lance. He has a bottle of something, it's supposed to suppress magic. It felt..." He shudders at the memory, at seeing the substance sitting on the table, feeling his magic recoil. "I can't let that happen, Lance."

"You won't," Lance assures. "You're powerful, Merlin. Arthur won't get within ten feet of you."

"I hope so." He continues to pace, magic bubbling restlessly beneath his skin. 

There's a crackle on the speaker, and he hears the dispatch sounding in the background. He stops, waiting with baited breath.

"Got something," Lance says. "Break-in at 18 Hawthorne."

"On my way." Merlin closes his eyes, focusing on his location. He's learned the city well enough now that he can teleport almost anywhere, saving him a lot of time and effort. There's a tug and he reappears outside a modest looking home at the end of a culdesac, a few lights on and the house seemingly quiet.

"Kid called it in," Lance says quietly in his ear. "He's hiding in a closet."

"Where are the parents?"

"Tied up, I think. Be careful."

"Thanks."

Merlin moves towards the house, opening the unlocked door and creeping inside. He lets his magic fill him up, turning his eyes gold to hide their true color, and moves easily through the darkness of the entryway. Rounding a corner he hears movement coming from what he assumes is the bedroom, the sound of quiet crying and rustling as the robbers move around. One exits the bedroom, striding down the hallway, and Merlin ducks out of sight until the last moment, lunging forward quietly to wrap a hand around the robber's mouth.

"Sleep," he whispers, sending tendrils of magic out. The man slumps in his hold and Merlin lowers him to the floor, retrieving zip-ties from his pocket and fastening the man's hands behind his back before moving towards the bedroom.

He pushes open the door, startling the two remaining robbers. Before they can raise their guns Merlin pushes his magic out forcefully and they fly back against the wall, sliding to the floor. The guns fly into Merlin's hands and he quickly strips them before dropping them on the floor, moving forwards to tie up the two men. The parents are huddled on the bed, gags in their mouths and hands bound with zip-ties, staring at Merlin with wide eyes. 

Merlin approaches slowly, hands raised. He disguises his voice magically, wavering and overlapping the tone.

"I'm not here to hurt you. Let me get you out of these ties, yeah?"

A nudge of magic and the zip-ties break, the couple immediately pulling the gags out of their mouths. They're fairly young, one dark-haired and the other light, and they stare at Merlin in matching awe.

"Our son," the brunette breathes, clasping his husband's hand. "Our son is upstairs."

Merlin nods, letting them lead the way out of the room. They race upstairs, calling for their son as Merlin follows close behind. The boy scrambles out of the closet and into his parents' arms, both of them crying and clutching him tightly. Satisfied, Merlin turns, doing a sweep of the house to make sure there's no one left and the robbers are still securely tied up before leaving without a trace just as he hears the first sirens. 

"All good," he informs Lance. "Three burglars tied up inside."

He hears the squeal of tires as Lance pulls into the driveway of the house. 

"Thanks," Lance replies. "Talk to you in a bit." The connection cuts off.

Merlin sighs, walking down the darkened street as he keeps his senses trained for signs of trouble. A cat runs across his path, bell jangling softly from its collar. Merlin crouches down, holding out a hand, and the cat creeps closer to sniff the leather with a pink nose. It's fur is grey and white, soft to the touch, and it gazes up at him with wide green eyes. He's not sure why animals seem to like him so much. Maybe it's the magic.

He scratches behind the cat's ear, tugging the collar so he can read the tags. 

"Hi Maisie. I bet you slipped out," he murmurs. "Your owner will be worried about you." 

He gently scoops the cat up, smiling slightly when it relaxes into his arms and starts purring. Seriously, there's something about animals and magic. He once went camping as a kid and had a deer and her fawn come right up to him. Also a bear. Needless to say, the trip didn't end well, what with the screaming and everything.

He heads towards the address on the tag, finding it not to far from where he is. Cats never roam far. Maybe he should think about getting a cat, he muses. Though he won't admit it to Lance, he's lonely. A cat wouldn't care about his double identity and could provide contact he sorely needs. 

He looks down at the cat in his arms. "What do you think?" he asks. "Should I get a cat?"

Maisie just purrs. Merlin sighs, seeing the house come into view. The lights are on, and he can bet the owner is still up hoping for her cat to come back even though it's getting late. He climbs the steps and knocks on the door, readjusting Maisie against his chest.

The door swings open and an older woman stares at him in shock, mouth falling open. Merlin shifts uncomfortably, gathering Maisie and holding her out. The woman accepts the cat blindly, still looking completely stunned by his presence. Merlin turns to leave.

"Wait." He looks over his shoulder, seeing the woman clutching her cat and blinking at him. "Thank you," she says quietly.

He nods, turning around before closing his eyes and teleporting back to his usual rooftop. Checking his watch, he sees it's only ten o'clock. Goddamnit. He's exhausted, the wound in his side throbbing, and he wants nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. Instead he teleports back to his flat and drags out his huge cork-board hidden in his closet, pulling off his hood and bandana and working on it while he waits for Lance to relay any more calls. 

In the middle of the cork-board is a photo of a man with a narrow face and thinning hair, eyes cold and hard. Aredian. Red strings runs from pushpins away from it in all directions, connecting to twelve photos that each have a cluster of information pinned around them. Merlin traces over two of them where the red string mingles with blue, eyes flitting over Freya's bright smile and Balinor's warm eyes. 

Magic. That's what links this board together. Magic, and Aredian's hunt for it. From what Merlin can tell, Aredian wants to study magic-users, to experiment on them. Perhaps he wants to unlock the mysteries of the universe. Whatever the reason, he's responsible for the deaths of a dozen magic users, and that's just how many Merlin knows of or suspects. All of them disappeared only to turn up dead bearing marks of torture and experimentation. 

Gilli's photo now hangs up there, his friendly face like a punch to Merlin's gut. 

All of them turned up dead, except one. Freya. She'd been a shapeshifter, able to turn into a Bastet, and his best friend and roommate throughout university. They had just graduated, and were searching for jobs. She had disappeared during their graduation party, and Merlin had been too drunk to notice. He'd woken up in the morning with a hangover and a bad feeling, searching only to find her gone.

He still remembers finding her outside their apartment a day later, her cat-like form bleeding and mangled. She'd transformed back only to die in his arms, smiling up at him as blood spilled over her lips.

She had escaped, Merlin later pieced together. She had escaped, but been injured in the attempt, and it was too late. He hadn't been able to save her. When the police arrived they found him still cradling her body, unwilling to let go. He'd been questioned, but eventually they had verified his alibi and her case was never solved. 

It's been two years, now, since Freya. A year and six months since his father. He'd still been angry and full of grief over Freya's death, not knowing where to turn his rage, armed with a degree in forensic science and biology but no direction. Then Balinor had turned up, claiming to be his father, saying he had something important to tell him. They were to meet in his hotel room in Camelot to discuss it further.

Merlin had gotten to the hotel just in time to see Balinor fall in the street outside, a figure running away. He remembers how he'd gone to him, cradling him as he bled out. 

_"Father," he cried. "No. Please."_

_"Aredian," his father breathed. "He's hunting magic users. Experimenting on them....you....Camelot-"_

_"Father?"_

_The sound of sirens rent the air, growing closer. Balinor reached up, cupping Merlin's cheek._

_"You have...to go."_

_"No. I won't leave you."_

_"Merlin...go. They can't...find you..."_

And he had run, had left his father's body in the street and run, not stopping until he found a deserted alley where he crumpled, hand over his mouth to cover his sobs. 

A name and a place. It was all he had. But it was enough. He'd moved to Camelot, Gaius had gotten him a job in the Camelot Police, and Merlin had started his investigation. He'd taken his father's last name, Emrys, and turned into a proper vigilante, instead of the sketchy rescues he used to do in Ealdor, where he'd grown up. People had gotten suspicious of him in Ealdor, of the things that happened around him. He'd been born with his magic, something Gaius said he'd never heard of before. His mother had never spoken of his father, and Merlin took her last name-Ambrosius-instead of Emrys. No one ever knew that Balinor had had a son.

Balinor, according to Gaius, was a powerful sorcerer and once one of the leading scientists in the country. He studied genetics-looking for the magic gene, Gaius had said-and was a professor at Camelot University before Merlin was born. Aredian was one of his colleagues, and he took an interest in Balinor's work. Merlin can only guess that Aredian figured out the truth about magic and became obsessed, starting to kidnap magic users to experiment on. Balinor must have found out, or been Aredian's first victim, because he disappeared while Hunith was pregnant with Merlin. They hadn't been married yet, so Hunith buried her hurt and tried to forget about him, thinking he had run off because of her pregnancy. There's no record of him for twenty-two years until that fateful night, and Merlin's leading theory is that Aredian kept him captive to continue his research on magic. He must have escaped and tried to tell Merlin, but Aredian had him killed and disguised it as a simple mugging.

The problem is that Aredian, on the surface, is perfectly clean, and after Balinor's death there hadn't been another magic user taken until Gilli, more proof that Aredian's research was floundering without Balinor. A year and a half of nothing, while Merlin sat and stewed and took his anger out on unsuspecting criminals. There's no proof, and however much Merlin wants to find Aredian and kill him he knows it won't solve anything. He doesn't know how many people are in on Aredian's experiments, or even how he's finding the magic users, and besides that Aredian has serious protections against magic. He's figured out enough to know how to defend against it, such as with a knock-off version of Uther's magic suppressing substance that Merlin had felt running through Gilli's veins, and who knows what else he forced Balinor to tell him.

Merlin wants to draw Aredian out into the open, get him to show his hand. Emrys is his bait, his huge blinking signpost signaling to Aredian that this is about Balinor. He just has to be careful that Aredian doesn't find out his true identity. There's nothing to trace Merlin to Balinor, no sign that he's anything but a normal forensic scientist, but without knowing just how Aredian is getting his information he can't be too careful. 

The most frustrating thing is that he still hasn't found the lab where Aredian takes his victims. It has to be somewhere, but in all his investigations he's turned up nothing. Until he finds it, he can't do anything but keep investigating and try to prevent Aredian from taking any new victims. He doesn't know why Aredian started taking victims again now, of all times, but the death has renewed his drive to take the man down. All of a sudden he's glad Arthur is on the case. If anyone can solve it, can get a solid lead pointing to Aredian, then it's him.

His earpiece crackles, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Lance?"

"Listen, Merlin, it's a slow night. I can handle this. Go to sleep."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. You're no use to anyone if you keel over on the job."

"Alright." Merlin checks his watch, seeing it's close to eleven. "Call me if anything comes up."

"I won't. Goodnight, Merlin."

"Goodnight."

The line clicks off. Merlin digs the earpiece out, tossing it on the counter with a clatter. The cork-board draws his eye, faces staring back at him from their nest of string. Merlin runs a hand over his face and goes to make a pot of coffee.

* * *

Merlin wakes to someone banging on his door. He groans, lifting his head off the table and sitting up as he takes in his surroundings. He's still in his tactical pants and black t-shirt, cork-board across from him and papers strewn over the table. His laptop sits open, screen dark. 

There's another bang on his door and a familiar voice echoes through the wood.

"Merlin!"

Merlin freezes. Shit. God-fucking-damnit. He looks down at himself in horror, then at the cork-board. Oh. Oh no. This isn't good. 

The lock rattles like someone is trying to pick it. Merlin jolts into action, quickly grabbing the cork-board and running to his bedroom, shoving it inside the closet. He tears off his pants, grabbing a pair of sweats and pulling them on, leaving the t-shirt for now. He's just stumbled back to the entryway and is about to reach for the door when it swings open, revealing Arthur. 

Arthur stares, caught off guard. "Merlin! Where the hell have you been? I've been knocking on your door for ten minutes."

"I was...asleep."

"Yes, I can see that." Arthur scans him from head to toe. "You do realize it's eight o'clock, right?"

It's Merlin's turn to stare. "What?" he says weakly.

Arthur's gaze turns concerned. "Merlin, are you all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

Arthur looks past him to the table, still strewn with papers. "Well, judging by the marks on your face you slept on the table, and you never came in for work."

"Oh." Merlin feels his face, sure there's red lines there. "Yeah, I was-I was doing some work and I must have fallen asleep. I didn't set my alarm."

"Because obviously that would be too much to ask," Arthur mutters. "Well, come on, get dressed. We have some people to question."

"What happened?"

"Emrys. Who else? Come on, hurry up. We don't have all day."

"I'm going, I'm going." Merlin jogs to the bedroom, taking a moment to lean against the wall and breathe in relief. That had been a close call. He throws on slacks and a blue button-down, clipping his name tag to his pocket and running a hand through his hair. After brushing his teeth he re-emerges to find Arthur looking through the papers on the table. Panic jolts through him. 

"You're researching Balinor Emrys?" Arthur asks, as Merlin tries to surreptitiously nudge a few papers under others with his magic. 

"Er, yes," Merlin replies, still trying to cover up a particularly telling report while keeping his head down so Arthur doesn't see his eyes. "Since you made the familial match, you know. Thought I would do some research."

"I think that's my job," Arthur comments dryly. "Seriously, Merlin, you don't need to do this. Just stick to the science stuff."

"Right. I will...remember that in the future. Come on, let's go."

Arthur rolls his eyes but follows Merlin out, watching him lock the door behind him. As they descend the stairs to the first floor Merlin glances over at Arthur, struck by a thought.

"Wait, why did you come over here? Surely you don't need me to interview people. That's your job. And how did you even get my address?"

Arthur's expression pinches the way it does when he's hiding something. "Maybe you'll find something. And I asked Gwen."

"Okay, so you came all the way over here just to get me for something I don't really need to do..." Merlin smirks. "I think you were worried about me."

"What?" Arthur scoffs. "That's ridiculous, Merlin."

"Whatever you say."

They reach the car, sliding into their respective seats as Arthur starts it with a low rumble.

"So," Merlin says. "What's this new case?"

"Same case, new crime scene," Arthur corrects. "Emrys stopped a burglary last night. Constables already cleared the scene but I want to talk to the owners, see if they have any information on Emrys since it's my case."

"So that's why you've brought me along?"

"Precisely. Although I would have preferred if you had actually woken up on time. Honestly, Merlin, you need to invest in a new alarm clock."

"My alarm clock works fine."

"So it's just your brain that's broken, right."

"And yet I'm still smarter than you."

"Shut up, Merlin."

A comfortable silence falls over the car. Arthur turns off the road and Merlin frowns as they pull into the parking lot of a small coffee shop.

"What are we doing here?"

"Just wait here." Arthur gets out, leaving Merlin alone. Merlin huffs and settles in his seat, checking his phone for messages. There's three missed calls from Arthur, a text message saying Arthur is pissed at him from Gwaine, and a concerned text from Gwen asking where he is. He texts Gwen and tells her he overslept and he's at a crime scene with Arthur, and texts Gwaine that Arthur is indeed pissed at him.

The message pops up a minute later.

_Actually, Princess was super worried about you. Why did you think he came all the way over to your apartment?_

Merlin frowns. Arthur, worried about him? Arthur barely tolerates him, and certainly was more annoyed than worried when he found Merlin this morning. Besides, he only came to Merlin's flat to drag him out of bed and make him accompany him to a crime scene. 

His thoughts are interrupted by Arthur returning with a coffee and a bag emanating the mouthwatering smell of pastries. He passes both over to Merlin without a word, starting the car. Merlin opens the bag and frowns down at the croissant nestled in in, turning to stare at Arthur in confusion. 

"Eat up, Merlin," Arthur says without looking at him. "If you want to finish before we get there."

"You...bought me breakfast?"

"You didn't have time to eat this morning."

Merlin stares at him a moment longer before shaking his head and picking up the croissant, taking a huge bite. He slides his phone out and, keeping the screen angled away from Arthur, texts Gwaine.

_Arthur bought me breakfast?_

The reply comes almost instantaneously.

_I think he'd like to have you for breakfast ;)_

* * *

It's strange, seeing the couple in the light of day when they have no idea that he's the one who saved them the night before. Arthur warns him to let him do all the talking, and Merlin rolls his eyes and promptly ignores Arthur. Honestly, he's not sure why Arthur went out of his way to get him if he doesn't actually need him for anything. 

"So you didn't get a glimpse of what he looked like?" Arthur is asking.

The blonde-Craig-shakes his head. "Nope. Wore a mask. All I saw were glowing gold eyes. "

"And his voice?"

"Disguised."

Arthur looks like he expected that, nodding resignedly. "Well, anything you can think of, anything at all, just give me a call." He hands the couple his card.

The brunnete-Dave-nods. "What I really wish we could do is thank him. He left so suddenly, we never got the chance."

Merlin feels something warm spark in his chest as Arthur's face twists into a sour expression. Arthur says his goodbyes shortly and leaves as quickly as he came, Merlin trailing behind him.

"You don't want me to look for evidence?" Merlin asks. Really, why is he here?

Arthur shakes his head. "There won't be any. Emrys is careful. He wears gloves, never lets anything slip. A burglary? This one's pretty routine for him. Just had to make sure."

"So...why am I here again?"

Arthur doesn't respond, sliding into the car. Merlin sighs and gets into the passenger seat, mind still burning with questions. He stays silent for the first few minutes of the drive, watching Arthur's index finger tapping on the steering wheel unconsciously, before he finally ventures to ask the question that's been plaguing him all morning.

"Arthur....why did you come over? I mean, you didn't really need me for the scene, or you could have just taken someone else, or sent someone over to wake me up, or-"

"Merlin." Arthur cuts off his rambling, glancing over at him with an unreadable expression. "Something's been bothering you for a while, and then you didn't show up to work....is it really so hard to believe that I consider you a friend? That I was worried about you?"

Merlin stares at Arthur's profile, momentarily blindsided. "I...no? I mean, I know we're...friends, I guess, but you never...I guess I never thought you cared that much."

There's the briefest flash of hurt across Arthur's expression before it's hidden once more. "I'm sorry," he says diplomatically. His knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "I know I'm not the best at...expressing emotion. But I do consider you a friend, Merlin, and I hate that you don't feel you can tell me what's wrong."

"Oh." Merlin blinks, warmth growing in his chest. "I...I do consider you a friend, Arthur, I do. I just didn't think you felt the same way. And it's not you-why I'm not telling you, that is. I haven't told anyone. I just....I can't. It's not about you."

Arthur glances over again, blue eyes bright with concern. "Okay," he finally says. "I won't press anymore. But Merlin, you can't keep going on like this. You've been late to work now five times this month, and I'm pretty sure you stayed up all last night doing research, God knows why. I've put up with your mood swings and lateness and general strangeness in the past because you're a bloody brilliant CSI, but this can't go on. As a friend, I'm saying you need to pull yourself together, or at least talk to someone, if not me."

Merlin swallows, familiar guilt sitting heavy in his stomach. He knows he's been erratic at work and often late, his vigilante activities overshadowing his day job. He'd only gotten it as a cover and way to make money while he hunted for Aredian, but he's found that it's starting to feel like home. He genuinely likes his job, likes the people there, and for the first time in his life feels like he actually fits in. He's almost managed to forget that it's all based on a lie.

But he does need to pull himself together, before someone connects the dots. The last thing he needs is people worrying over him, watching him a little too closely for comfort. Arthur showing up at his flat unexpectedly was bad enough.

He takes a deep breath. "Okay. Yeah. I understand. And Arthur?"

Arthur looks over.

"Thank you."

Arthur nods, eyes returning to the road. "You too."

* * *

The day passes quickly-after Arthur takes him to the precinct and sees him off with an arm punch Merlin assumes is supposed to make him feel better-with Gwen chastising him for being late again and filling Merlin in on every new discovery she makes about magic. She's created an algorithm to try and identify all the people in the system with magic, something that simultaneously terrifies and impresses Merlin. He just hopes Gwen's algorithm never gets out to the public, or the government will have a way to identify magic users. He can see it vividly in his mind's eye: mandatory DNA tests, screenings, people with magic being exposed and then studied. He knows Gwen's intentions are good, but the road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions, and what started as a simple slip-up on his part could spell doom for his kind. 

He finds himself in Gaius' office at lunch, fidgeting uncomfortably as he tries to escape Gaius' disapproving eyebrow.

"So," Gaius says, steepling his fingers and fixing Merlin with a stare. "Now the police have your blood."

Merlin winces. "Er, yes." 

"And Arthur knows about magic."

"Yes."

"Unbelievable," Gaius mutters. "You never cease to amaze me. Somehow, you not only managed to expose yourself, but expose the very  _existence_ of magic to Arthur Pendragon!"

"Hey, that part wasn't my fault. Not entirely. I swear!" Merlin protests when Gaius looks at him in disbelief. "Arthur's father is the one who told him about magic."

Gaius leans forward. "Merlin, listen to me. You have to be extremely careful. Uther Pendragon is not a man to take lightly. If he ever found out that you are Emrys, I fear it would not end well for you."

"Why? What would he do?"

Gaius shakes his head. "I cannot say for sure. Uther has kept an eye on the magical community for years, and in his own way has helped them to remain safe. But I think you know that your power is nothing like other sorcerers. At the very least, Uther would deem you too powerful to be free."

Merlin swallows, the realization sinking in his stomach like a stone. 

"Oh," he says weakly. 

"Yes. You see why you must guard your secret with your life. I'm afraid that Uther isn't even your biggest threat, if the truth about you gets out. There are many more who would wish you harm, or..." Gaius trails off, and Merlin understands what he's left unsaid. There are people who would want to study him, or harness his powers, or exploit him for their own gain. Being killed or imprisoned is the least of his worries. He thinks about what would happen if Aredian ever captured him and shudders.

"I'm sorry," Gaius says, face uncharacteristically soft. "I don't mean to frighten you. But you're playing a dangerous game, Merlin."

Merlin tries for a smile. "I've been playing a dangerous game since I was born, Gaius."

"Indeed." Gaius looks older than ever. "Indeed."

* * *

 Merlin leaves work promptly at 4:00, remembering that he needs to start looking less obsessed with the case and more stable, and decides to pick up his long-neglected routine. He sits cross-legged in the middle of his living room, flickering candles scattered all around and casting shadows on the walls of his cluttered flat, one candle held in his hands. Focusing on it, he reaches inside for his magic, bringing it to the surface. 

One.

He breathes in, loosening the hold on his magic just enough to snuff out the flame. 

Two.

He breathes out, and the candle flares to life again. 

One.

He breathes in, and two candles go out.

Two.

He breathes out, and they re-light.

He repeats the process until he lights all the candles and makes the flames float above the wick before dousing them entirely. It's a trick he learned as a child from Gaius, one to help him control his wild magic. He used to do it every day, but he's been neglecting it in his hurry to get out onto the streets. His magic isn't out of control like it was when he was younger, but it still slips away from him sometimes, and as he attempts harder and harder feats he needs the precision of control he's honed over the years. He's been getting sloppy, relying on the brute force of his magic instead of skill. No wonder he'd gotten shot.

His side is still healing so he forgoes any physical training, instead focusing on his magic. He runs through the basics of what he can do-telekinesis, teleportation, time-slowing, sensory expansion, element control-and then pushes the boundaries of his magic, trying for more abilities. He manages to turn himself invisible and expand his senses so far he hears a cat meowing in the next city before he stops, calling it progress. 

He cooks dinner for the first time in a while instead of ordering take-out, and even manages to do a load of laundry and clean his flat. He vacuums up dust-bunnies that have collected on the hardwood floors, wipes off the layers of dust on his bookshelves, and washes and puts away the dishes using magic. Satisfied, he pulls on his freshly-washed Emrys outfit and teleports to his favorite rooftop, watching the sun set beneath the horizon and paint the sky in hues of orange. 

Sitting on the ledge, he extends his magical senses outwards. Without conscious awareness, his senses seem to train on one figure walking down the street, and when Merlin's magic brushes against him it sends sparks up his spine. 

_Arthur,_ he thinks. Arthur's presence feels golden and warm, drawing his magic to him, and Merlin scowls as he tries to rein it in. Bloody hell, even his magic has a crush on Arthur, and now he's magically stalking him. This is creepy. 

He's just about to reel his senses back in when the air around Arthur thickens with tension and a voice sounds in Merlin's ear almost as if he were really there.

"Hello, Pendragon."

He  _feels_ Arthur reach for his own gun, drawing it. He knows, suddenly, that Arthur will not be quick enough. The assailant fires.

_No!_

He doesn't think.

In an instant he's standing on the street, time slowing to a crawl. The bullet travels inexorably through the air, straight for Arthur's heart. Arthur is raising his own gun, finger squeezing the trigger and the explosion visible at the end of the barrel as the bullet leaves the chamber.

Merlin steps in front of Arthur and releases his hold on his magic.

Time rushes onwards. Magic bursts from Merlin in a wave, deflecting the oncoming bullet and sending the assailant flying through the air. He lands hard on the pavement, unmoving, and Arthur's shot lodges into the building behind him. The golden force field around Arthur and Merlin blazes before flickering out.

Merlin has to breathe in order to tamp down on the magic threatening to escape his control, nearly trembling with adrenaline and something strangely like fear. The gun lying next to the assailant skitters away and the barrel crumples like paper under the force of his unstable magic.

He's never had such a visceral reaction. In fact, he hadn't even made the conscious decision to teleport here, and he's not really sure what happened.

"Freeze. Hands up."

Arthur's voice jolts him from his shock and he raises his hands, making sure his eyes are glowing golden before slowly turning to face Arthur. Arthur has his gun trained on him, blue eyes narrowed and glinting in the glare of the streetlight.

"Fancy meeting you here," Merlin says glibly, voice disguised. "You know, usually when someone saves your life the appropriate response is 'thank you.'"

Arthur scowls. "You didn't save my life. I could have handled that just fine."

"Sure. Whatever you say."

Arthur's grip tightens on his gun and he tilts his chin up. "On your knees. Hands on your head."

"I'm not really hearing much gratitude here."

"Now!" Arthur barks. "I won't hesitate to shoot you."

Merlin takes a slow step towards Arthur, drawn by an invisible force. Arthur fires, and Merlin slows time enough to see the slight twitch of Arthur's gun, the change in trajectory that means the bullet won't hit him. He lets time move forward again and doesn't flinch as the shot wings past his shoulder and lodges next to the previous one.

"You missed."

"That was a warning shot." Arthur levels the gun at him again. "Next time I won't miss. Now, get on your knees."

A small, unhelpful voice in Merlin's brain informs him that he would very much like to get on his knees for Arthur. Especially right now. There's something about Arthur's commanding voice, the way he holds the gun like an extension of his arm, that makes Merlin unfairly turned on. Life apparently hates him.

"Gladly," Merlin purrs, figuring he might as well make use of his disguise to hit on Arthur. He takes another step forwards, then another, until Arthur's gun presses into his chest. He's taking a risk, he knows, but the voice in his head screaming at him to be careful fades into the background as his magic reaches out, wrapping around Arthur happily and making his blood sing.

Arthur stares back at him, eyes slightly glazed and pupils dilated. Tension hangs in the air between them. Merlin loses himself in Arthur's eyes, the barrel of the gun pressed over his pounding heart like a handprint. 

Arthur breaks the silence first. "I'm going to arrest you."

Merlin smiles under the mask. "I'd like to see you try."

"Saving my life doesn't change anything."

"I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

Merlin is silent for a moment. "I couldn't watch you die," he says softly. 

Something flashes in Arthur's eyes, jaw tightening. "I'm sorry," he says. 

Merlin frowns. "What are you-"

The needle slides into his thigh, syringe clutched in Arthur's left hand. Fire rushes through his veins, a horrible, dizzying sensation following short after. Merlin gasps, instinctively reaching out to clutch Arthur's arm as his legs threaten to buckle under him. Arthur holsters his gun and throws the syringe aside before grabbing Merlin, hands surprisingly gentle and face lined with guilt. He meets Merlin's betrayed gaze evenly, eyes filled with anguish.

Merlin's magic recoils within him, shrieking and writhing as the magic suppressant burns through him. He cries out in pain and tries to fight Arthur's hold, the world tilting alarmingly and a strange ringing filling his ears, breaths coming in gasps. Arthur just tightens his grip, murmuring something that Merlin doesn't catch.

_This can't happen._  The thought pushes through the haze, pricking at Merlin's mind. He gathers his strength and pushes his magic outwards with a scream, feeling Arthur release him suddenly as though burned. He falls to the ground, dark spots crowding his vision and pain flaring somewhere deep in his chest. Pavement scrapes his palms. With the last of his strength he concentrates on his flat, praying to any God who will listen. 

There's a rushing in his ears, a pressure on his chest, and then the familiar pattern of his rug appears in front of his eyes. Merlin promptly passes out. 

* * *

Two hours later finds him lying on his bed with blankets piled over him as Gaius checks his vitals, frowning in disapproval.

"Be glad you didn't get a higher dose," he's saying. "Your magic should be able to flush it completely from your system in a few hours, but if you'd gotten enough of that it might have killed you."

"Arthur said it was just supposed to prevent sorcerers from using their powers," Merlin croaks. "I thought it wasn't supposed to hurt?"

"For a normal sorcerer, no. But you're not normal, Merlin. You  _are_ magic. By suppressing it, you're suppressing your life force. It's no surprise it caused you such discomfort."

"Oh." Suddenly he's very, very glad he managed to get away from Arthur. The thought of a lifetime on that substance is horrifying. 

Gaius pats his hand. "Get some rest. You should be fine by the morning."

"Thanks, Gaius." Merlin's eyes droop with tiredness and he snuggles deeper into the blankets with a sigh. He's asleep before he even hears Gaius leave the room, dreams filled with Arthur's anguished eyes.

The syringe plunges into his thigh. Merlin crumbles. Arthur holds him, but this time the words are clear.

_I'm sorry,_ he says.  _I've got you. It's going to be okay. I'm so sorry._


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur tosses and turns all night, dreams haunted by golden eyes staring up at him in betrayal. Emrys had saved his life, and Arthur had paid that back by poisoning him. He remembers the way Emrys felt under his hands, the surprising slightness of his tall frame, the inexplicable pull Arthur had felt to him. There had been a moment when Emrys had come close, those golden eyes mere inches away, and Arthur had wanted nothing more than to press him against the nearest building and ravish him. Instead, he had slid the suppressant he had been carrying around out of his pocket, and stabbed the needle into Emrys' thigh. 

It was a brilliant plan. Get him close, stick the needle in, arrest him. But Emrys had crumpled into Arthur, emitting a cry of unmistakeable pain not distorted by magic, and Arthur had suddenly felt horrified by what he'd done. Emrys' voice, undisguised, had sounded so  _young,_ and as the golden light of his irises flickered Arthur caught a glimpse of wide blue eyes, so much like Merlin's that it made his heart stutter for a moment. The suppressant had hurt Emrys somehow, even though it wasn't supposed to, and Arthur didn't know what to do but murmur apologies as Emrys struggled in his hold weakly. 

Then he'd screamed, and electricity had raced through Arthur making him rip his hands away. Emrys had somehow still used his magic even with the suppressant, and Arthur had watched stunned as Emrys disappeared into thin air. 

It had taken him a full ten minutes before he called the police, still staring at the place where Emrys disappeared. His attacker was Valiant Emerson, a drug dealer who Arthur had put away. He'd just gotten out on parole and apparently decided to take his revenge on Arthur. Arthur barely paid him any mind, handing him over to the constables and not caring what happened to him. 

Six o'clock the next morning finds him striding into his father's office unannounced, slamming the half-used vial of magic suppressant on the desk.

"Explain," he snarls.

Uther looks vaguely concerned. "Explain what?"

"You know what I'm talking about.  _You_ told me that all this does is take away their magic. You never told me it hurts them!"

Uther blinks at him, looking genuinely surprised. "It doesn't. The sorcerers suffer no harm. I assure you, it's perfectly humane."

"Then explain why I used it on Emrys and he  _screamed_ ," Arthur says coldly. "Because I didn't sign up for that."

Uther sits up straighter, interest mingling with surprise. "You caught Emrys?"

"No. He got away. But that doesn't matter. I'm not using this again, father. It's not right."

"Sit down."

"Father-"

"Sit."

Arthur sighs, flopping into the chair like an impetuous child and crossing his arms, glaring at Uther. Uther leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk and clasping his fingers.

"Arthur, the magic suppressant doesn't hurt sorcerers."

"Stop lying-"

"I'm not. Just listen, Arthur." Arthur scans his face and finds nothing but honesty. He nods, gesturing for Uther to continue. 

"As I said, the magic suppressant doesn't hurt  _normal_ sorcerers," Uther says. "They simply can't use their already limited magic. But it's my belief that Emrys is no ordinary sorcerer. Whatever he is, he's more powerful than anything I've seen or ever heard about. You said the suppressant caused him pain?"

"Yes."

"Interesting. I don't know why that is, but believe me when I say that that was never my intention. I simply want him contained."

"Contained?" Something about the word sits in Arthur's gut uncomfortably. "What does that mean?"

"Something that powerful can't be allowed to run wild in Camelot, Arthur. And he's a criminal. The best thing would be to incarcerate him in a special facility designed to contain his powers, and attempt to synthesize a magic suppressant that causes the least amount of harm."

"He's not a  _thing,"_ Arthur says heatedly. "He's a person. And what about his rights? Surely he'll get a fair trial."

"A trial?" Uther chuckles. "No. Even if he wasn't a criminal, we'd still want to take him in. He's simply too powerful. If you manage to arrest him, I will handle making him disappear. In the meantime, I'll have my team get to work on making a new magic suppressant. They'll take a sample of his blood from the lab today to begin their research. You are to keep working the case and find any leads you can. I expect a report of last night's incident on my desk by the end of the day."

Arthur stands, feeling off-balance. "Yes, sir." He grabs the bottle on the desk, pocketing it before walking out without a backwards glance.

* * *

 Gwen is just making herself a cup of coffee in the break room when Arthur comes in, thanking God that Gwen always gets here absurdly early. He checks his watch.  _6:30._ Perfect. Just enough time to do what he needs before anyone else comes in.

"Gwen," he starts. "I need you to do something for me."

"Of course, Arthur. Anything." Gwen blushes. "I mean, not anything, obviously-"

Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes at Gwen's familiar babbling. "You still have the sample of Emrys' blood?"

"Yes." Now Gwen looks curious. "Why?"

"I need you to test something really quick. And don't tell anyone else." He motions her towards the lab and she follows, scanning her ID card and stepping through the doors. 

She pulls out the slide with the drop of Emrys' blood from storage, sliding it under the microscope. Arthur withdraws the vial, holding it out.

"I want to see what effect this has on his blood."

"Okay." Gwen sounds suspicious but accepts the vial, withdrawing a small amount with a syringe and dropping it onto the slide. She looks through the microscope and gasps.

"What? What is it?"

"Oh," Gwen breathes. "This is...what is that?"

"Not important. What's happening?"

"It's almost like...poison, or some sort of toxin. It's causing a significant reaction, doing something to the blood. Coating it, somehow. And...oh!" Gwen straightens up from the microscope, staring at Arthur with wide eyes. "It took over."

"So what would happen to Emrys if he received it?"

Gwen frowns. "Well, I'd expect some sort of negative reaction, maybe illness. If he received enough, it might kill him."

Arthur felt the breath leave him in a rush.  _Kill him._ God, he could have killed Emrys. Or maybe he already has. He has no idea what happened to him.

Gwen turns back to the microscope, peering through it and starting to scribble notes on a pad of paper. 

"Oh!" She exclaims. "I was wrong. The toxin is now being broken down by something inside the blood. Not very fast, but it's happening."

"What does that mean?"

"Well..." Gwen bites her lip. "Just based on this, I'd still say the toxin poses a serious threat to Emrys, and would definitely cause a negative reaction. However, given time, I think his blood would continue to break the toxin down and eventually reach homeostasis again. It's like a virus. He'll be sick for a while, but eventually he'll recover."

Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. There's hope. Emrys might still be alive. 

"Thank you, Gwen," he says.

"Of course. But, Arthur, I know it's not my place to ask, but....what is this?"

Arthur debates telling her the truth before settling on a half-truth. "It's a weapon," he says. "Against Emrys. But I'm not going to use it. I don't wish that kind of harm on him."

Gwen smiles. "You're a good man, Arthur."

Arthur grimaces. "No, Gwen, I'm not. But thank you."

* * *

He's just walking out of the lab, vial in his pocket again, when Merlin shuffles in. He looks pale and wan, but at least he's on time. He stops short when he sees Arthur, staring at him with something close to trepidation before mumbling a hasty "good morning" and rushing past him into the lab. Arthur frowns, heart sinking. He'd hoped that their talk yesterday would strengthen their budding friendship, but apparently he'd just made things awkward. Nothing can go right for him lately, it seems.

As if to confirm his thought his phone rings. He digs it out of his pocket with a groan, walking towards his office as he presses it to his ear without bothering to check caller ID.

"DI Pendragon speaking."

"Hi Arthur." It's Elena, a copper who he's crossed paths with a few times. She's hilarious and smart, if a bit of a mess. "I've got a scene I think you should see," she says, voice unusually somber. "Female, mid-twenties, found in an alley."

"Why are you calling me?"

"Get this, it looks like someone cut her open, autopsy-style."

Arthur stops in the middle of the hallway. "I'll be there in twenty. Text me the address."

* * *

Merlin is even quieter than usual on the drive over, but he keeps sneaking glances at Arthur when he seems to think Arthur isn't looking. Arthur finally breaks first, sighing.

"What, Merlin?"

"What?" Merlin looks guilty. 

"You keep looking at me."

"So?"

"So what is it? Why are you being weird? Is it because of yesterday?"

"Yesterday?" Merlin glances over with a fearful expression. "What about yesterday?"

"When I told you to pull yourself together, Merlin.  _That_ yesterday."

"Oh." Merlin looks relieved. Strange. "No, it's not that. I just, uh....you look tired is all. Rough night?"

Arthur's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "You could say that."

"What happened?"

"Well..." Arthur swallows, deciding to trust Merlin. "I was attacked by someone I put away, but Emrys saved my life."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Can't imagine why, but he did. And then...." The shame curls in his stomach. "I tried to take him in, and I used the magic suppressant. I...he got close, and I stabbed him in the leg when he least suspected it. Only, I think it hurt him. He got away, but...I don't know if he's alive, or hurt, or..." He shakes his head. "I don't know."

"Are you worried about him?" Merlin's voice is teasing, but there's a note of seriousness underneath.

"Don't be stupid, Merlin." Arthur shifts in his seat, glancing over. "Okay, maybe a little. I mean, he seemed really hurt. My father says that's not supposed to happen, but Emrys is different. More powerful. And as much as I want him arrested, it's wrong to make him suffer like that. I'm not using the magic suppressant on him ever again, not until my father's team figures out how to make one that won't hurt him."

He doesn't tell Merlin that he's starting to question whether he wants to arrest Emrys at all. Knowing he won't get a fair trial, will only be locked up by Uther for the rest of his life regardless of what he's done, doesn't sit right with him. Emrys is a person, and from all he's seen actually a fairly good one. Maybe he's broken a few laws, but Arthur is starting to believe that his intentions are good. He'd saved Arthur's life knowing that Arthur would still arrest him, and he'd never tried to harm Arthur even while Arthur had a gun trained on him. Emrys could have killed him in a heartbeat, but he didn't. He doesn't deserve the fate Uther would impose on him.

He realizes they've arrived at the crime scene and stops the car, killing the engine before speaking.

"I just...I wish Emrys knew that I never meant to hurt him, not like that."

Merlin reaches over an lays a hand on his arm, smiling softly. "I think he does." He jerks his head towards the door. "Come on, pull yourself together. We've got a crime scene. Can't have you moping about the place."

Arthur punches Merlin on the arm and gets out, lips reluctantly curving up into a smile.  

* * *

The victim's name is Sefa Appleby, a young paralegal at a respected law firm with her whole life ahead of her. Both her mother and her father had died young, and Sefa was adopted by a sweet older couple who helped put her through school. She had many friends, no enemies, and was described by all as a sweet and caring person. She'd simply disappeared after work and then turned up dead two days later, dumped in an alley like trash.

The body is missing eyes and the y-incision on her chest matches the one on Gilli's. Arthur orders a rush on her DNA results. He has a sinking suspicion that Gilli's death was only the beginning, and that this has something to do with magic.

He wonders if this is his fault. He had hurt Emrys, and then the girl had turned up dead. Gilli was found just after Emrys appeared to be injured during the gang takedown. Of course, they had both been abducted days prior, but would Emrys have been able to catch the perpetrator dumping their bodies if he hadn't been incapacitated?

An email pops up on his computer from Gwen. Curious, Arthur clicks on it and scans the contents.

_I found all the DNA profiles with markers,_ it reads.  _Here's the full list._

Arthur starts at the top of the list, typing the name into the system. A short digitized report comes up with their basic information and why their DNA is on file. If he wants to know more, he'll have to get their paper file. 

The first three are criminals. He discards them quickly, moving on. The fourth is a homicide victim.  _Ligature marks,_ the report says.  _High levels of Ketamine in system. Needle-marks along arms._ _Cause of death: exsanguination._ There are four days between when the victim went missing and when they turned up dead. The time of death is only a few hours before they were dumped. The case is ten years old, and unsolved.

Something pricks at Arthur and he keeps going, pulling up the next name on the list.

_Ligature marks. High levels of Ketamine in system. Needle-marks along arms. Cause of death: exsanguination._

There are three days between when the victim went missing and when they turned up dead. The case is nine years old, unsolved.

He reads the next one.

_Ligature marks. High levels of Ketamine and Warfarin in system. Burn marks along arms. Cause of death: Warfarin toxicity._

Was missing for five days before the body was found. The case is eight years old, unsolved.

He reads the next one, and the next one, and the next one, until he's read all thirty profiles. Eighteen of them are in the system because they were arrested, but the other twelve...

_Unidentified toxin,_ some say.  _Surgical incisions....organs removed....fingernails removed....signs of struggle....ligature marks...._ the list goes on and on, the cases more and more grotesque as the years pass. Like they're building up. Like each one grows in confidence. Like  _they were all experiments-_

Arthur jumps to his feet, running out of the room.

* * *

The box lands on the desk with a loud thump, some of the dust lifting from the lid in a cloud that tickles Arthur's nose. He stands with his hand on it, looking out at the room. More boxes cover every inspector's desk, Leon, Percy, Elyan, and Gwaine's attention trained on him as Merlin and Gwen stand by his side.

"This is the last one," he says, patting the box. "There's twelve cases total, so each of us needs to take four. Review the evidence, re-interview witnesses and family, look for connections between the cases, anything that will get us closer to catching the son of a bitch who did this. Like I said, we're dealing with a serial killer here, one that targets people with a specific genetic marker. Figuring out how he found each of them could be the key to solving this. Merlin and Gwen will be going over any forensic evidence again, and don't hesitate to ask them for anything. Gwaine, I want you to use your contacts, see if there's any word about our killer on the street. All of you, be careful, and keep the investigation quiet. We don't need people knowing someone is targeting people with magic, or that it even exists. Understood?"

They all nod, faces grim. Arthur claps his hands together. 

"All right. Let's get to work."

* * *

Arthur's four cases are the most recent ones. There's a man named Alator, a woman named Finna, a young boy named Daegal and a girl named Freya, who was murdered two years ago but appears to be the most recent death up until Gilli. The two-year gap confuses Arthur, and he wonders whether they're missing cases or something happened to make the perpetrator stop for a while. 

He starts with the oldest case in his stack, Alator, flipping through the file to find next of kin.

Finna.

Great. The next of kin is another victim. Arthur sighs, opening Finna's file as well. It seems they were connected by more than just their magic. Maybe that has something to do with how the killer finds them. The marks of torture on many of the victims could be an attempt to get the name of another sorcerer. The fact that Finna was kidnapped next in line after Alator seems to point to that theory.

He only stops working to eat a quick lunch, making his way through all the evidence for Alator and Finna's cases without unearthing anything new. It's the same as the new cases: No physical evidence, no witnesses, no security camera footage, nothing that could give any indication of who did this. In Alator and Finna's case, there's not even family or friends to interview. They'd been reclusive, living on the outskirts of the city without cell phones or internet or even a single human connection besides each other, it seems. Arthur wonders if it's because of their magic, that they didn't feel safe in the outside world. Maybe Morgana was right.

Leon pops in mid-afternoon to check in, telling Arthur he'd interviewed some of the victims' friends and family. He's a tall man, with a head of curly blonde hair that's always perfectly in place, and he's been on the force longer than Arthur. He'd been the one to take Arthur under his wing and show him the ropes, and Arthur still feels guilty that he ended up as chief instead of Leon. Leon's a brilliant inspector and an even better friend, and he deserves the world for sticking by Arthur for so long.

"Find anything?" Arthur asks.

Leon shakes his head sadly, curls bouncing with the movement. "I'm afraid not. Just that the families of the victims are very secretive. It wasn't until I told them that I knew about the... _magic_...that they opened up to me."

"What did they say?" Arthur is curious. The only people he's ever talked to who knew about magic are his father, Emrys, and Morgana. He's interested to know what those with it or with family with it think.

Leon shrugs. "That they didn't have much power, and only used it for small things; that they never told anyone else, and they have no idea how someone found out. They didn't trust me at first, but eventually I convinced them I just wanted justice, and one actually showed me a bit of magic. Made my teacup float a bit off the table."

He smiles, then turns serious. "All these people, Arthur, they weren't lying when they said they don't have much power. It's not much more than what any decent magician can give the illusion of. Actually, now that I think of it, maybe most magicians are actually sorcerers..."

He cocks his head and Arthur has to stifle a chuckle at the thought that magicians are all just low-grade sorcerers. Hiding in plain sight, indeed.

"Anyway," Leon continues. "My point is, the power these people have is next to nothing. But I've seen and heard about what Emrys can do, and he...he must be more powerful than any of them  _combined._ How do we know he isn't the one killing these people? Maybe he has a way to absorb their power or something, and the more sorcerers he kills the more powerful he gets."

Arthur blinks, stunned. He'd never even considered, but...it makes sense. A horrible kind of sense. But then he thinks about the way Emrys always tries to help, the way he's never killed a single soul, the way he'd saved Arthur's life without a thought. Surely someone like that would never do something so horrible...right? And when Gilli and Sefa had been dumped Emrys was hurt. But they'd been dumped in the early morning, and Emrys was injured both times in the evening. Maybe he'd recovered enough to dump their bodies, or had someone else do it for him?

He rubs his temple in frustration. "I don't know, Leon. It just...doesn't seem like Emrys."

"I thought you hated him?"

"I do. Maybe? I don't know." Arthur groans. "I don't necessarily think he's a bad person, just...misguided maybe. But I don't think he would do this."

Leon looks skeptical. "Just don't discount him, Arthur. As of right now, he's our most viable suspect."

"I know." Arthur sighs. "I won't."

Leon gives him a nod before turning to leave, shooting Arthur a last warning look over his shoulder. Arthur slumps back into his chair, staring at Emrys' profile open on his computer.

_Who are you really?_ he asks silently.  _Hero or villain?_

* * *

The announcement that Emrys is the primary suspect is met with uncomfortable silence. Gwaine stares at him with a befuddled expression, Leon looks grim, and Percy and Elyan look quietly contemplative as they mull it over. Merlin, perched on a desk, is staring at him with wide eyes glinting with hurt and frustration, and Arthur shoves down the memory of Emrys' pleading eyes that rises, unbidden, to the surface. Even Gwen is frowning at him, disappointment mingling with disbelief on her face. It only makes Arthur feel worse.

"Listen, I don't want it to be true any more than you," Arthur says. "But right now, it's our best and only lead. The problem is that arresting Emrys is near impossible, what with his powers. There are already people working on a solution, so in the meantime just focus on your cases. Once we have a way to capture Emrys I'll let you know."

He waves a hand in dismissal and turns to go back into his office, seeing Merlin striding towards him out of the corner of his eye. Merlin follows him into his office, slamming the door behind him as Arthur takes a seat

"You can't  _possibly_ think that Emrys had anything to do with this," Merlin snarls, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Arthur doesn't think he's ever seen Merlin so angry.

Arthur raises a hand. "I know you hero-worship him, but we can't just ignore the evidence. It makes sense."

"Makes sense?! Makes sense?! No, it doesn't. Emrys would  _never_ do that. You think he would-he would-" Merlin clenches his jaw, eyes blazing. "You're as bad as your father. You're blaming Emrys because he has magic, a lot of it, and it scares you."

" _What?"_ Arthur stands up, striding around the desk to face Merlin. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"You want me to repeat myself?  _You're as bad as your father,"_ Merlin spits. "You pretend to care about magical people and then stab them in the back, or should I say _leg-"_

Arthur steps forwards, face inches away from Merlin's. "How  _dare_ you. I told you how much I regretted that. And I'm the one trying to  _save_ magical people."

"Yes, you're doing such a great job of it-"

"Get out."

Merlin glares at him, chin tilted up defiantly. Arthur leans forward.

"Get. Out," he hisses.

With one last glare Merlin turns on his heel and stalks away, the door slamming shut behind him. Arthur lets out a shaky breath, stumbling back until he hits the desk.

_What just happened?_

* * *

The next morning Merlin avoids him in the break room, only staying long enough to down a cup of coffee before leaving as fast as he came without even glancing at Arthur. Something inside Arthur twinges in pain, but he shoves it down and covers it with a healthy dose of anger. This is all Merlin's fault. Arthur did nothing wrong, Merlin is just being stroppy because his favorite hero might be a serial killer. That's all it is.

Except Arthur doesn't quite believe that. There was another reason, something deeper that made Merlin lash out. He just doesn't know what it is.

He distracts himself from thoughts of Merlin by working on the case. He's put aside Finna and Alator for now, and is on to Daegal. He'd been so young when he was killed three years ago, only seventeen at the time. He'd been in his senior year of high school.

His father is never mentioned, probably absent, and his mother was another one of the victims five years previous. It doesn't fit with the pattern, as there's too long between the mother and Daegal for her to have told the killer he was a sorcerer, but then another thought strikes Arthur. Five years previous, Daegal would have been twelve. Boys normally don't go through puberty until thirteen or fourteen at the earliest, so Daegal's magic wouldn't have manifested yet. Perhaps the killer did know about him, but was waiting until his magic appeared.

Excited, Arthur writes down his suspicions on his note pad, making a note to ask the other inspectors if they had found anything similar. Satisfied with the case for now he moves onto the last one, Freya. There's something different about this case, and he almost hadn't included it in his list of victims. For one thing, she hadn't been dumped like the others. She had been found outside her apartment complex, and had apparently died on the scene. She had disappeared after a college graduation party, similar to Gilli's disappearance, but had turned up only a day later. It looked like she had escaped from somewhere and walked there, and she was still alive when her flatmate had found her but died before help arrived.

Though the case is slightly different from normal, Arthur has a feeling it's connected. Not only was it never solved, but there were marks of experimentation on Freya's body, and he thinks she might have actually escaped from the killer. She could be the key to the case.

Arthur scans the file, looking for the name of the flatmate. It's the only witness they've had so far.  _Please be alive, please be alive-_

He stops at the name, staring at it in disbelief. 

_Merlin Ambrosius_

Merlin. _Merlin_ was her flatmate? Merlin was....oh no. Merlin was the one who  _found_ her. Sweet, gentle Merlin had watched his friend die in his arms. No wonder he carried an air of tragedy like a shroud. No wonder he had been so unraveled by this case. In fact, he hadn't seemed surprised when Arthur told him about magic. Like he already knew. He must have known about Freya, and he'd....

Never told Arthur. Not once, in the year and a half they've known each other, had Merlin said anything, even though when he'd started the job it had been mere months since Freya had died. It's approaching the two-year mark now, the anniversary of her death creeping up, and Merlin still hasn't said anything. Arthur had told him to pull himself together not knowing that he was struggling with grief, reminded of Freya's death by the anniversary and the new case.

_Why_ hadn't Merlin said anything? He said he considered Arthur a friend, but don't friends tell each other these things? And if he knew about magic, and Freya's death, he must have connected it with the current cases. Why hadn't he said anything then? They could have made the connection between the cases days ago.

He reads the report further, scanning for answers. It says Merlin was taken in on suspicion of her murder, but eventually released. Suddenly, Arthur has to know everything. He can't ask Merlin. If he's lied about this before, he's just as likely to lie again. No, he needs another source. He moves a finger down the text. 

There.

_Arresting Officer: Constable Kay Olwen_

* * *

The precinct is a good thirty minutes away in the next town over, near the Albion University of Art and Science. Kay is a tall man with dark hair and a handsome face, hazel eyes sharp and surrounded by fine age lines. Arthur finds an empty briefing room to talk, ushering Kay in with a cup of coffee and a promise not to keep him too long.

"So, what's this about?" Kay asks abruptly, taking no time for pleasantries. "Not often we get a Pendragon around these parts."

Arthur slides the file across the table. "Freya Lake."

Kay opens the file, scanning it briefly and nodding with a sigh. "Yeah, I remember this one. Hard to forget."

"Can you walk me through what happened? We may have a new lead, a connection to a large number of other cases."

"Really?" Kay looks surprised. "Well, I hope you can solve it. Poor girl deserves justice."

Arthur nods. "That she does. Can you walk me through what happened?"

"Well, we got the call mid-afternoon. When we got there, the kid-Merlin, her flatmate-was cradling her in his arms right next to the steps. We tried to take her, to see if she was still alive, but he wouldn't let go of her body. He was clearly in shock. And I swear the kid electrocuted me somehow when I touched him. We finally managed to drag him away, but she was already dead. And...Christ, it wasn't a pretty sight. She was naked, too, though the kid had covered her with his jacket. He wasn't responding to any questions and for all we knew he'd done it, so we brought him to the station."

Kay pauses, hand rubbing his face. "I feel bad now, for what we put him through. We questioned him over and over, and kept him for the whole seventy-two hours. He looked on the verge of a mental breakdown by the time we let him go."

Arthur forces down his feelings. "You couldn't find any evidence to charge him?"

Kay shakes his head. "No, and it was clear he hadn't done it. See, she'd disappeared during a party to celebrate their graduation. Kid was hella drunk, and didn't notice she was gone until the morning. A bunch of people confirmed his alibi. There's no way he could have done anything during the party. Plus, he filed the missing person's report the next day as soon as he realized, and he spent the entire day looking for her and calling people to ask if they'd seen her. He happened to be home when she showed up, and he immediately called the cops. Besides, it was obvious he hadn't done it. He was absolutely devastated, kept saying he couldn't save her."

Arthur lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Not that he thought Merlin killed her, but it's good to have it confirmed. "So she was still alive when he found her?"

"Yeah." Kay grimaces. "She didn't say anything, though. We asked him. He said she died only a few moments after he found her. Christ, that kid has some bad luck."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, one of the reasons we initially suspected him is because he was also involved in a murder back in his hometown."

"What?" Arthur leans forward. "What are you talking about?" Just another thing Merlin hadn't told him.

Kay sighs. "Happened about six years ago, when he was eighteen. Childhood friend, William Farmer, was shot and killed by a classmate named Edward Kanen. Kanen says he was aiming for Merlin, but William got in the way."

"Merlin? Why did he want to kill Merlin?"

Kay shrugs. "I don't know. But he said something about William being a freak, and that in the end he shot the right person. Apparently he was a raving lunatic. He's in a psychiatric ward now."

"Christ." Arthur runs a hand over his face. "I didn't know any of this."

"Yeah. Kid's had a rough go of it. I really hope you solve the Lake murder, because she and the kid both deserve justice and closure."

Arthur swallows. "I agree." It comes out rough. He stands up, holding out his hand. "Well, thank you very much. Feel free to give me a call if you think of anything else."

"Will do." Kay shakes his hand. "And good luck."

"Thank you," Arthur replies. "I think I'll need it."

* * *

Arthur stares at Merlin's employee file spread across the table, laptop open to Freya's case. Merlin's picture stares up at him, blue eyes full of unfathomable secrets, the dim light from the kitchen painting shadows across his face. Arthur finds the audio file from Freya's case again, hits play.

_"999, what is your emergency?"_

_"I-she's-I..."_

_"Are you hurt or in danger in any way?"_

_"No, it's-it's Freya, she's-I can't-"_

_"Sir, I need you to calm down. Can you tell me what's going on?"_

_"She's dead, I-I couldn't save her, I couldn't-"_

_"Can you give me your address?"  
_

_"Twenty-two Main Street, near-near Albion University."_

_"Emergency services are on their way. Stay-"_

The line clicks off.

* * *

Arthur corners Merlin the next morning in the break room, grabbing his arm to prevent him from fleeing.

"Merlin. I need to talk to you. My office, five minutes."

Merlin scowls and yanks his arm away, stomping out. But five minutes later he's standing in Arthur's office, face hard as stone.

"Have a seat," Arthur says, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

"No thanks."

"Merlin."

Merlin flops into the seat, crossing his arms and glaring down at his lap. Arthur rests his elbows on the desk, trying to figure out how to start.

"Merlin, I'm sorry."

That gets Merlin to looks up, blinking in surprise. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I never meant to hurt you in any way. I'm not my father, and I don't share his opinions on magic. I only accused Emrys because the evidence lines up, and because I have no other suspects. My first priority is the protection of those with magic."

Merlin's face softens and he drops his hands to his lap, fiddling with a thread on his cuff. "I'm sorry too," he says. "I shouldn't have gotten so upset."

"I understand why you did. This case is personal for you."

"What?" Merlin's eyes snap to his. "What are you talking about?"

"Freya." He sees Merlin flinch and look back down at his lap. "You knew she was one of the victims."

"I...suspected."

"And you knew she had magic."

"Yes." Merlin's voice is barely a whisper.

"I'm not angry, I just...Merlin, why didn't you tell me?"

Merlin shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "You never asked?"

"No, that's not a good enough excuse. We've known each other over a year, Merlin, and while you know almost everything about me I still don't know anything about you. You don't trust me."

Merlin finally looks up, eyes glistening. "No, Arthur, I  _do._ I do trust you."

"Then why?"

Merlin shrugs again. "I guess I'm not used to telling people things? I have...a lot of secrets in my life."

"Like magic?"

Merlin swallows. "Yeah." He bites his lip, searching Arthur's eyes. "Freya didn't just have magic. She could shape-shift into a Bastet. I was the only one who knew about her."

Arthur feels a spark of warmth in his chest that Merlin is trusting him with this. It feels like an olive branch.

"Tell me about her?" he asks.

Merlin blows out a breath and nods. "I will. Not now, though."

"Tonight? Come over to my place. We can order pizza. I'll let you get that pineapple monstrosity you love."

Merlin blinks at him for a moment before smiling slightly. "Yeah, alright. It's a date."

* * *

"So she really was a cat. With wings."

"Yeah." Merlin nods, taking another sip of beer and cradling it in his hands, resting the bottle on one of his knees where he sits cross-legged on the couch. The moisture from the bottle seeps into his jeans, leaving a damp spot. "She was beautiful."

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Were you two...together?"

Merlin shakes his head. "No. We did date for a little while, in uni, but....well, I'm gay. So I apologized for leading her on and we just became really good friends."

"Oh. I'm bisexual," Arthur offers. He's never told anyone that before besides Morgana, but the easy air of secret-sharing between them and Merlin's soft blue eyes make Arthur feel like he can say anything.

Merlin smiles. "I didn't know that."

"Well now you do. And other than you, only Morgana knows."

"Why?" Merlin tilts his head. "Are you not ready to come out yet?"

"No, it's not that. I don't care if anyone knows I just...never told anyone. It never came up. And it's not like I've really been dating much."

"Why?"

Arthur shrugs. "Too busy, I guess. Morgana says I work too much."

"She's not wrong." Merlin smiles at him over the rim of his bottle. "Come on, Arthur. You're a catch. You should get out there while you still can."

Arthur wrinkles his nose. "While I still can? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I mean, I know you're getting up there, but it's okay, some people like older men-"

Arthur sets his beer on the table and lunges forwards, driving wriggling fingers into Merlin's stomach. Merlin shrieks, somehow setting his beer down as he tries to fend him off. He bats Arthur's hands away and then Arthur is tipping forward, landing on Merlin's chest in a tangle of limbs and staring down at him breathlessly. Merlin's grin is blinding, eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling with laughter, curls mussed from their tussle and one escaping its bounds to drift over his forehead. It's the happiest Arthur has ever seen him.

Their faces are inches apart, breaths heavy and bodies pressed together, Arthur's hands bracketed next to Merlin's shoulders. Out of impulse he reaches up and sweeps the stray hair off Merlin's forehead, feeling Merlin's breath hitch and watching as the thin band of blue in his eyes shrinks even further.

Arthur's eyes dart down to Merlin's lips, pink and soft-looking. 

"I'm only one year older than you," Arthur murmurs.

"Prat," Merlin breathes.

And then Arthur is kissing him, tasting pineapple and beer on Merlin's lips, and somehow it's the best taste in the world because it's Merlin, and he's kissing Merlin, and Merlin is kissing back. 

He sinks into the sensation, slipping his tongue between Merlin's parted lips and feeling Merlin's hand clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer until all of a sudden Merlin pushes against his shoulders and Arthur breaks the kiss, frowning down at him. Merlin pushes him again until he sits up and then wiggles out from under him, standing up and running a hand through his unruly hair. 

"Um." He licks his lips, drawing Arthur's gaze again. "Um, I should-I should go-"

Arthur gaze immediately snaps back to his eyes, which are wide and fearful. "What? No, Merlin, I'm sorry-"

"I have to go." Merlin turns and all but runs out of the apartment, the slam of the door echoing in the sudden silence. Arthur rests his head in his hands and groans, cursing himself. Now he's done it. He's wrecked their friendship just when Merlin was starting to open up to him. 

He grabs Merlin's beer and drains the rest of it, tasting the imprint of Merlin's lips on the bottle.

* * *

Two days. Two days of Merlin avoiding him with the same stricken deer-in-headlights look that makes Arthur's insides shrivel up. Arthur walks into his kitchen tiredly, throwing his keys in the bowl by the door and flipping on the lights. Immediately he reaches for his gun, training it on the dark figure sitting on the counter.

Emrys stares back at him without moving.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur demands.

"I didn't kill those people."

Arthur's gun wavers without his permission and he tucks it away, figuring it's useless anyway against Emrys. "And I'm just supposed to take your word for that?"

Emrys shrugs. "Guess so."

Arthur takes a step forward and Emrys visibly tenses. Arthur raises his hands in a conciliatory gesture, wincing. "Sorry. And sorry for...you know. I never meant to hurt you."

Emrys nods. "I know."

Arthur thinks back to what Emrys said before and squints suspiciously, itching to draw his gun again. "You said you didn't kill those people, but how did you know I accused you?"

"Just assume I know everything. I can hear a cat's meow a town away if I want to. Is it really so hard to believe I could have overheard you?"

"No," Arthur says grudgingly. He points a finger at Emrys. "But that's creepy. And now that I know you're listening in, maybe I'll feed you wrong information."

"You can certainly try."

Arthur scowls. "I still don't know whether you're telling the truth. Come on, convince me. Why aren't you the killer?"

Emrys holds up a hand, counting on his fingers. "One, because I'm not a killer. Two, because I don't need their magic. I was born with my powers. Three, because even if I weren't powerful, I wouldn't even know how to take someone else's powers. Four, because they were clearly experimented on and only someone without magic would need to do that. Do I need to continue?"

Arthur mulls over the reasons, weighing each one in his mind. They're solid arguments, and besides that his gut tells him Emrys isn't the killer. Finally he nods. "Okay. Say I believe you. You must know something about the case, at the very least, and like you said you're quite powerful. Why haven't you caught the guy yet?"

"It's not that simple. He's protected, and I can't find a single thing on him. I've never been able to catch him in the act. I'm not a killer, and if I give him to the police he'll just be out a minute later."

"You know who it is."

"Yes."

"Who?"

Emrys is silent for a moment. "Aredian," he finally says. "Thomas Aredian."


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin thunks his forehead against the counter twice before keeping it there, the cool granite soothing on his skin. 

"I'm an idiot," he groans.

Why the hell had he decided it was a good idea to show up at Arthur's flat as Emrys? Yes, he'd given Arthur more information about the case, but he knows that was the last thing on his mind when he teleported there. He'd wanted to, what, clear his name? Make Arthur stop believing he'd killed those people? Or maybe there was another reason, his traitorous heart whispers. Maybe he simply couldn't stay away from Arthur no matter how hard he tried.

The kiss replays through his mind, the softness of Arthur's lips against his and the warm press of his body, the way it had made sparks race up Merlin's spine. He had lost himself to it for a moment, thinking of nothing but Arthur, before reality crashed down. He can't be with Arthur, no matter how much he wants to. It's not just the lies, the way Arthur will never truly know Merlin. No, it's more than that. Arthur is too precious, and Merlin can't risk him. He can't lose another person to the death and destruction that follow him wherever he goes, can't let himself be responsible for Arthur getting hurt.

He'd tried to make it a clean break, tried to avoid Arthur after the kiss, but he just couldn't stay away. At least as Emrys he can still talk to Arthur, safe in the knowledge that Arthur hates him. It's less dangerous that way. 

He remembers Arthur's parting words to him, affirming his stance.

_This doesn't change anything. I know I can't arrest you now; you're too powerful. But when I get the new suppressant, I won't hesitate to use it._

It's comforting, in a way. Arthur will never try to protect him as Emrys, which means he will stay safe. Now all Merlin has to do is keep his distance from Arthur during the day. They'll go back to being colleagues, nothing more. As Emrys he will help Arthur solve the case and then disappear, move somewhere far away and start over. Arthur won't miss him.

It's better this way. Truly.

 _Then why does it feel so wrong?_   a voice whispers.

Merlin thunks his head against the counter again.

* * *

Gwaine perches on the lab table, scrutinizing Merlin with a piercing stare. Merlin scowls, resolutely facing away from him as he inputs a report into the computer. It's the end of the night and there's no one else here save him and Gwaine, something that never bodes well.

"What do you want, Gwaine?" he asks flatly. "I'm busy."

"What's up with you and the Princess? Lover's quarrel?"

Merlin scowls harder. "We're not lovers."

"Ah, but you want to be."

"No."

"Come on, Merlin. A blind man could see it. You're pining."

"I'm not pining."

"Arthur certainly is. He looks like a kicked puppy, and he keeps shooting you these horrible guilty looks. Now come on, what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Merlin."

"Go away, Gwaine."

Gwaine jumps off the table, pulling Merlin's rolling chair backwards in one smooth move and pinning a wrist down. Before Merlin can blink he has a zip-tie around his wrist securing him to the chair, and Gwaine ties the other one as he splutters protests. 

"There." Gwaine leans against the desk, crossing his arms. "Now, talk."

"You-you can't-this is-I'm going to  _kill_ you-"

"Yeah, yeah." Gwaine waves a hand. "Dispense with the threats. I'm just trying to help."

"Gwaine, let me go or I swear to God-"

"So, you and Arthur. What happened?"

Merlin glares. "If I tell you, will you let me go?"

"Depends. Spill."

Merlin sighs. "Arthur kissed me, I ran away, now it's awkward. End of story. Now can you let me go?"

"Not yet." Gwaine taps a finger on his chin. "Why'd you run away?"

"Because I don't like Arthur like that."

Gwaine scoffs. "That's a lie. Anyone can see you're arse over tits for him. So come on, what's the real reason?"

Merlin lowers his gaze, worrying at his lip. "I...can't."

"Why not?"

"Because....it's complicated."

"So uncomplicated it."

"I  _can't."_

"Or you won't."

Merlin shakes his head. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Merlin glances up, taking in Gwaine's uncharacteristically serious expression.

"Okay," he says. "There's things Arthur doesn't know about me, and I can't tell him. If I'm with him...I'd be lying to him every day."

"What kind of lie is it, though? Is it, 'I'm cheating on you and I don't want you to find out,' or 'I can't tell you something about me but I'd never do anything to hurt you, and it doesn't matter because I'm still the same person'?"

"The second one," Merlin says grudgingly.

"Then there you go." 

Merlin shakes his head again. "But that's not it. I could live with the lies, but...I couldn't live with myself if he got hurt."

"Because of you?"

Merlin nods.

"Mate, that's life. We're only responsible for our own actions, or not responsible in my case." Gwaine grins and points at himself before sobering. "Arthur can take care of himself."

"Maybe."

"Have a little faith. He's not going to drop dead the second you two start buggering."

"Gwaine!" Merlin blushes.

"Live a little, Merlin. It'll do you a world of good." Gwaine pulls out a highly-illegal pocket knife and cuts Merlin's bonds. "Now come on, it's a Friday night. Let's get outrageously drunk, eh?"

Merlin stands. "Are you paying?"

Gwaine ruffles Merlin's hair, pulling him into a one-armed hug. "Are you kidding? You really think they pay me that much? I'm a CI."

Merlin smiles, a real one. "Touché." 

* * *

Merlin awakens to bright light streaming through the window, making his head pound and stomach roil with nausea. He moans, turning his face further into the pillow and scrunching his eyes closed against the searing light trying to burn his retinas.

The smell of bacon makes him chance opening his eyes again, squinting against the brightness. He sits up slowly, pressing a hand to his head and breathing shallowly until the nausea abates, trying to piece together his foggy memories.

He'd gone to a bar with Gwaine, got incredibly drunk, and then....he's not sure. He has a memory of rambling about Arthur's looks, Gwaine trying to get his keys, and of them stumbling through the apartment, but beyond that it's hazy. Oh well. At least only Gwaine was there to witness whatever embarrassing thing he did. 

Slowly, he gets out of bed, shuffling out the open door and into the kitchen, where Gwaine is making eggs and bacon wearing nothing but his boxers. Merlin freezes, a horrible suspicion planting in his mind.

"Did we sleep together?"

Gwaine turns to look at him, grinning. "Sure did."

Merlin must look horrified because Gwaine laughs, shaking his head. "If by slept together you mean passed out in the same bed, then yes, we slept together."

Merlin lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh."

"But if you ever  _did_ want to actually..." Gwaine waggles his eyebrows.

Merlin rolls his eyes, plopping into a chair. "No thanks."

"Sorry, I forgot, your heart belongs to Arthur."

Merlin leans forward, dropping his head onto the counter. "I hate you so much right now," he groans. 

A plate clatters next to him and the smell of eggs and bacon and coffee makes him lift his head. "Pity, because I made a great breakfast," Gwaine says, a hand still on the coffee mug. "But if you don't want it..."

"Okay, okay, I don't hate you that much. Give it here." Merlin snatches the mug away, taking a sip. 

Gwaine smirks, sliding into his own seat and picking up a slice of bacon. "That's what I thought."

Merlin takes a bite of eggs, glad when his stomach doesn't protest. "These are so good," he mumbles. "How the hell did you make them?"

"Magic."

Merlin chokes. When he can finally breathe again he studies Gwaine intently, searching for clues as to what happened last night. "So," he starts casually. "You...remember anything from last night?"

Gwaine chuckles, but his eyes are serious. "A bit. Why?"

"I don't remember anything past getting to my door," Merlin admits. 

"Ah." Gwaine grins. "Can't hold your liquor. Well, it's alright. You didn't do anything too embarrassing."

So he hadn't let slip anything about magic, otherwise Gwaine would be freaking out. Good. What isn't good is the fact that he neglected to patrol last night. He should have been out there, and instead he'd been getting sloshed. He's no hero.

"Oh no. What's wrong?"

"What?" He looks up from where he'd been mindlessly prodding at his eggs.

"You've got that look on your face like someone just killed your puppy."

"No I don't."

"Don't make me zip-tie you again."

Merlin sighs, setting down his fork. "I just...I shouldn't have done that. Last night, I mean. I have...work to do."

"It's a Saturday, Merls. Doubt the world is going to end because you didn't do any work last night."

"You don't know that," Merlin mutters under his breath. The world  _could_ end because he wasn't there to stop it. Although, maybe Gwaine has a point. That's a little dramatic. Most nights he just stops robberies and chases off vandals, maybe saves the occasional cat stuck in a tree. It's rarely serious.

But what if? What if that one night was the night another sorcerer was taken, or someone was killed and he could have stopped it? It's his responsibility. 

"Come on." Suddenly Gwaine is behind him, dragging him out of his chair. "Up, up. No time for brooding. You're taking a shower, and then we're spending all day watching horrible movies."

Merlin groans, letting Gwaine push him towards the shower. "I take it back. I do hate you."

* * *

As soon as Gwaine leaves after dinner Merlin practices his magic, refining his control and expanding his capabilities before gearing up. Lance is off-duty for the weekend and spending it with Gwen, so Merlin is on his own for the night. He practices making himself invisible and walks through the streets unnoticed, watching people walk by with no idea he's there, lost in their own worlds. Some are happy couples strolling home from dinner, some are young people out bar-hopping, some are students leaving the movies, all are ordinary people simply enjoying life without a care or thought to magic or serial killers. Surrounded by people, invisible, Merlin suddenly feels very alone. 

A small sound brushes the edge of his senses, a faint cry. He turns towards it, away from the lights and the people and into a dark alley, creeping down it silently as he stays alert for trouble. There's no one here, the alley empty and still. 

Merlin frowns, turning to leave. The sound echoes again, coming from the dumpster. Slowly, he moves towards it, reaching out a gloved hand and pulling up the lid. 

Nothing happens.

He shimmers into visibility and with a surge of magic makes light appear in his palm, holding it over the opening. Something flashes in the depths, small and white. Merlin tenses.

A small white kitten blinks up at him, letting out a plaintive meow.

"Oh." Merlin feels his heart melt. "Hello, little one." He reaches in, scooping out the kitten and cradling it to his chest. It snuggles against him happily and starts to purr, small claws flexing against his jacket.

A quick search of the dumpster reveals no other cats.

"Are you all alone?" Merlin murmurs, scratching its ear. "Poor thing."

It looks up at him with large blue eyes and yawns, pink mouth stretching wide.

Twenty minutes later Merlin is back at his flat with the kitten, building it a make-shift litter box out of newspaper while it tries to climb up Merlin's leg. He plucks it off and sets it on the counter, crossing his arms and staring at it. The kitten stares back.

"Okay," Merlin says. "You need a name."

The kitten meows. Merlin thinks. 

"Aithusa," he finally decides, the name rolling off his tongue. 

The kitten takes a step forwards and raises a paw, tapping his arm. Merlin smiles.

* * *

He finds himself in Arthur's flat again, watching invisibly as Arthur sits at his table studying case files. He looks tired, with dark shadows under his eyes and normally perfect hair slightly disheveled as if he's been running hands through it. Merlin itches to do the same, to see if the strands are as soft as they look. 

"Need some help?" he asks, shedding his invisibility.

Arthur jumps, swearing.

"Emrys. Bloody hell. Can't you knock or something?"

"Sorry." He's not.

Arthur slumps again, letting out a sigh. "Why are you here?"

Merlin shrugs, pulling out a chair opposite and sinking into it. "Thought I'd drop by. How's the case going?"

"It's not. Aredian is completely clean. There's nothing to suggest he's the killer. How do you know it's him, anyway?"

Merlin debates telling Arthur the truth. "My father told me," he finally replies. "Before he died."

Arthur sits up straighter. "Balinor?"

"Yes."

"And he knew about the murders, the experimentation?"

"Yes. I think he was Aredian's first victim."

Arthur frowns. "But he died years after the first victim."

"He disappeared twenty-two years earlier, while he was working with Aredian at Camelot University. Aredian covered it up, made it look like Balinor was just traveling, but he wasn't. There's no actual records of him. His research was on genetics, and I think Aredian kidnapped him for it."

"And what, held him captive for twenty-two years?"

"Yes."

"How'd he die, then?"

"He must have escaped, and Aredian killed him before he could talk. All I know is that he told me Aredian was hunting sorcerers in Camelot."

Arthur shakes his head in disbelief. "All this time, I've been chasing you and chasing Aredian, and you're telling me they were the same case all along."

"That's why I came here, to find Aredian and stop him. It's why I do what I do, trying to save as many people as I can."

"That's..."

"Naive? Foolish? Misguided?"

Arthur's gaze is soft. "I was going to say noble."

Merlin stays silent, internally reeling from Arthur's praise. He looks at Arthur's tired face in the dim light, the blue of his eyes, and realizes that there's no way he can stay away from him. He will always come back, one way or another. There's simply something inevitable about Arthur, something about him that fills the spaces of Merlin's heart and makes him believe in truth and justice and happy endings; something Merlin never knew he needed but finds he can't live without.

It feels almost like destiny; and Merlin can't see the future, doesn't know if this will end in tragedy and heartbreak, but he thinks that whatever this is between them is worth the risk. And maybe, one day, he will tell Arthur all his secrets, and maybe one day Arthur will accept him. 

It's enough.

"Thank you," he whispers.

Arthur looks at him quizzically, head tilted slightly to the side. "What for?"

Merlin doesn't answer. He closes his eyes and then he's standing in his flat, Aithusa bumping against his ankles.

* * *

 "A kitten!" Gwen squeals on Monday, nearly spilling her coffee. "Oh my word. You must let me come see it."

"Of course," Merlin promises. "I'm taking her to the vet today, but you and Lance should come over for dinner before his shift."

"We would love to." Gwen reaches over and squeezes his arm. "I know you are Arthur are fighting, or something, and you've been so down lately, and I just want you to know I'm here for you. You can always talk to me, about anything."

Merlin forces a smile. "Thanks, Gwen. You're a wonderful friend."

"You know, Arthur's your friend too. You should talk to him."

Merlin groans, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. "I know."

"But?"

"But..." Merlin throws up his hands. "I don't know what to say. 'Sorry I ran away after we kissed and then ignored you for a week'?"

Gwen stifles a laugh. "Sorry, sorry, it's not funny, just...is that really what happened?"

Merlin slumps over the table, resting his chin on his arms. "Yeah."

"Well, did you want to kiss him?"

He sighs. "Yeah."

"Do you want to kiss him again?"

"Unfortunately."

"Then tell him that. I mean, not the 'unfortunately' part, obviously."

"What, just walk up to him and say, "Arthur, I'd really like to snog you again'?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way-"

Merlin stands up abruptly. "Gwen, you're brilliant." 

"Oh, well, I-"

Merlin dumps his mug in the sink, jogging out the door. "Thanks, Gwen!"

"Merlin-"

He strides towards Arthur's office, ignoring everything in his way as he bursts through the door without knocking. Arthur looks up sharply from where he's standing beside his desk, face creasing in confusion.

"Merlin-?"

He grabs Arthur by his leather jacket, pulling him in and crushing their mouths together. Arthur makes a noise of startled protest before melting into it, a hand coming up to cup Merlin's cheek as he deepens the kiss. It's perfect, messy and intense, Merlin's magic prickling beneath his skin and making every touch electric. He can feel the gun callouses on Arthur's hand rubbing against his cheek, the roughness contrasting with the softness of Arthur's lips as he explores Merlin's mouth.

It feels like it lasts forever and yet it's only a moment before they finally break apart, breathing heavily.

"Merlin," Arthur breathes. "I-"

"Shh." Merlin holds a finger to Arthur's lips. "Me first." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run, or ignored you. The truth is, I was scared, because I like you, Arthur. I like you a lot. And I don't want to lose you."

Understanding dawns in Arthur's eyes. "You won't lose me," he says quietly, swiping a thumb across Merlin's cheekbone. "I promise." He presses a soft kiss to Merlin's mouth.

Merlin smiles. "Good, because I don't plan on letting you go."

Arthur smiles back, eyes crinkling, and pulls Merlin back in.

* * *

Merlin can feel the heat from Arthur's leg next to his own, his knee bumping him every so often under the table. Arthur looks happy, smiling at Gwen and Lance across from them, the lines of tension in his face smoothed out and eyes bright and clear. 

"So, how did you meet?" Arthur asks, nodding at Lance and Merlin.

Their eyes meet over the table and Merlin chuckles nervously. "Um, well, it's a funny story, really. I was driving home and my car broke down." 

"Why am I not surprised?" Arthur mutters. "That car is a death trap."

"Lance was passing by and stopped to help," Merlin continues, ignoring Arthur. "He called a tow-truck for me and then offered to drive me home." He shrugs, smiling. "Well, it was impossible to say no, and it was impossible not to become friends."

The story is well-rehearsed between them, exactly what Merlin had told Gwen when he first introduced her to Lance. The real story is that Merlin had gotten sloppy trying to take down a human trafficking ring and wound up with a bullet to the shoulder and a head wound. Lance had been in the area and was drawn by the gunshots, arriving to find the traffickers knocked out with magic and Merlin passed out a little ways away. Merlin had woken up in an unfamiliar flat to a handsome man leaning over him, bandaging his wound, his mask and hood pulled away.

When asked, Lance said the reason he rescued him was because of all the women he'd saved from the traffickers. "I think you're a good man," he'd said. "I believe you use your powers for good, and that's all I've ever wanted to do. I will assist you in any way possible."

Merlin had recruited Lance to be his eyes and ears on the force, introduced him to Gwen, and formed one of the best friendships of his life.

"And the rest," Lance is saying with a smile, "is history."

* * *

Arthur stays after Lance and Gwen have left, sitting on the threadbare couch with Aithusa curled up in his lap, a hand stroking her white fur softly. Merlin sits on the other end of the couch, feet drawn up as he watches the scene.

"I like Lance," Arthur says. "He'd be a great addition to the team."

"I agree. It's his life's dream to be a detective inspector."

Arthur is silent for a moment. "I'm glad you invited me over."

Merlin smiles softly. "Me too."

"About...what you said." Arthur turns to face him more fully, readjusting Aithusa on his lap. "About losing me. That was about Freya, wasn't it? And Will."

Merlin's head snaps up. "Will? How do you know about that?"

Arthur looks guilty. "I may have...looked into you. I'll admit, I was a little hurt that you hadn't told me about Freya, so I went digging for the truth."

"Oh." Merlin swallows, worrying what else Arthur managed to dig up. "What did you find?"

"That you've lost a lot, and I get why you were freaked out about us. I only intended to dig into Freya, but Constable Olwen told me about Will. I don't know what really happened, and you don't have to tell me. I'm sorry I pried."

Merlin softens. "I forgive you. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you." He sighs. "You're right. Being with you means that I could lose you, and that terrified me."

"What changed your mind?"

Merlin snorts. "Gwaine, actually. He zip-tied me to a chair and talked some sense into me. Also, we got really drunk. I can't really remember what happened."

Arthur cracks a smile. "That sounds like Gwaine."

"Yeah." They fall silent, Arthur still stroking Aithusa's head. Merlin pushes himself up and resettles at Arthur's side, leaning his head on his shoulder. Arthur is warm and solid beneath him, Aithusa's rumbling purrs just barely audible in the silence.

"Do you feel like we've been together forever?" Merlin asks quietly. "Even though we've just started?"

"Yeah." He can feel Arthur chuckle slightly beneath him. "I think we were, we just didn't know it."

"Gwen always says we bicker like an old married couple." Merlin blushes. "Um, I mean, not that I want to get married-"

"Merlin."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Merlin grins, relaxing against Arthur. 

* * *

He can sense multiple people in the building, can hear the distinctive sound of boots crossing the floor and the click of the safety on a gun, the grinding sound of the safe being opened and the gruff voice of one of the robbers. Steeling himself, he strides up to the doors of the bank and thrusts his hands forward, sending the doors flying open. Gunfire erupts as he keeps his hands in front of him, bullets hitting the golden shield around him and falling to the floor. He watches for any stray gunfire that may hit the civilians grouped on the floor, twirling a hand and making shields spring to life around them as well. 

He's starting to feel the strain of so much magic at once, attention divided between his own shield and the others. It builds and builds, wanting to break free, and he waits until the men give up on shooting, turning to run, before letting his magic go.

It expands outwards in a wave, catching the men and throwing them to the ground. Merlin reaches, yanks, and their guns fly towards him, dissembling in midair and clattering to the floor with a wiggle of his fingers. He breathes, collecting his magic and striding towards the forms of the robbers groaning on the floor. One by one he quickly checks them for weapons and zip-ties their hands behind their backs, leaving them in a row against the back wall before moving to help the civilians.

There are no injuries, luckily, just shaken people who picked the wrong day to be in this bank. Several shrink away from him, eyeing him in fear, while others stare in blatant awe. The fear makes something curdle within him, the same anger and shame and self-hatred that had followed him from Ealdor.  _Am I a monster?_ he'd asked Gaius once, ten years old and just starting to realize how different he was, and that different, to others, was something to be feared.

Lance speaks into his earpiece, breaking his spiral of thoughts. "Two minutes, Em."

Merlin sends a burst of magic in reply, making Lance's speaker crackle.

"The police will be here in two minutes," he says to the room at large. "You're safe now."

"Safe?" An older man steps forward, eyes glittering with hatred and uniform signaling his role as a security guards. "We can never be safe, not so long as there are freaks like you out there."

_"You're a freak!" Kanen screams, waving the gun. "You made that happen, I know it!"_

Merlin swallows, ignoring the pang in his chest. "I won't hurt you," he tries weakly.

"There's only one way to make sure of that."

The shot takes Merlin by surprise. He'd checked the robbers for weapons, never thinking to check the civilians. He never thought they were the threat.

There's no time to react. His magic slows time just enough for him to twist, the bullet missing him by centimeters and carving a small track through the sleeve of his jacket. He stumbles, blinking in surprise, an oppressive silence falling over the room.

There's a gasp.

Merlin whirls, gaze falling on the man standing behind him, staring down at his chest in shock as blood stains his white shirt. Merlin is moving before he even processes the scene, rushing forward to catch the man just as he falls. 

"Stay away from him." He glances over to see the shooter leveling his gun at him again, hand trembling.

"You did this," Merlin hisses, rage boiling over. He lashes out violently with his magic, wrenching the gun from the man's grip and disassembling it before crushing it with a clenched fist, letting it drop to the floor. His magic churns as he lays eyes on the man, his contorted expression, and it itches to throw him across the room, to cut off his air, to make him hurt for what he's done. Kanen's face swirls in front of him, deja vu stealing his breath and giving shape to the vicious rage under his breastbone forged with grief and pain.

He raises a hand and stops. 

A little girl peeks out from her mother's leg, eyes wide with fear. He realizes suddenly that if he does this, he will prove the man right. He will become the monster he always feared he was. Kanen, Aredian, this man; they all will have won.

He drops his hand and turns back to the body in front of him, frantically searching for something to stop the bleeding. The white shirt is soaked with blood, the stain spreading quickly, and the man's face is chalk-white, eyes closed and body limp with unconsciousness.

 _Magic._ It's his only hope, or else the man will die right here on this floor. All of a sudden it's Will in his arms, his blood coating Merlin's hands, Merlin pushing his power into him again and again only for nothing to happen. His vision blurs, breaths coming fast.  _No no no no no._ He can't fall apart, not now. 

He tears off his gloves, pressing both hands to the wound. Distantly, he hears pounding on the doors of the bank but everything else fades away as he digs down deep into the core of his power, closing his eyes and pouring it into the wound. He pictures the bullet, senses it, pulling it carefully upwards and out of the wound. Metal connects with his palm and he grabs it, dropping it to the floor before pressing his bloodied hands back onto the man's chest.

He breathes. In. Out. Draws on the threads of his power, coaxing the sinuous strands into bone and muscle and tissue. He makes them whole, piecing the shattered bone back together piece by piece, weaving torn muscle fibers together, connecting tissue and vessels and skin.

A bead of sweat runs down his forehead, breaths coming in pants and entire body trembling with the strain. His magic falters, fades, the world spinning behind his eyelids and the power in his chest flickering out. He feels the skin of the wound heal under his palms and draws on the last vestiges of his magic, throwing all of it into the still body.

The man gasps.

Merlin slumps, opening his eyes to see the man blinking up at him, his face swimming in Merlin's vision. There's pounding somewhere nearby, and suddenly hands touch his arms.

"You have to get out of here," a voice whispers. 

Merlin nods, letting the hands haul him to his feet. He sways and they catch him, gently pulling him across the floor.

"Back door," someone else murmurs in his ear. "We'll hold them off as long as possible."

He's moving down a passageway, and then there's the squeak of hinges. 

"I've got it from here," a familiar voice says.  _Lance._

The hands tighten on him. "You're a copper. I'm sorry, but we aren't handing him over to you."

"I'm on his side. Trust me."

Merlin grunts and nods, trying to reassure whoever's holding him up. "Lance," he mumbles.

"Hey Em. Let's get you home." The hands release him and then Lance has an arm around his waist, helping him stumble to his waiting cruiser and setting him down in the back. 

"Lay down," Lance instructs. "Don't lift your head."

Merlin complies, curling into the seat as the door shuts. The car starts with a rumble and then pulls away, the rhythmic motion lulling him into sleep. 

* * *

_Kanen points the gun at Merlin, eyes hard and hateful._

_"You're a freak!" he screams, waving the gun. "You made that happen, I know it!"_

_Merlin stands frozen, unable to move. His throat works, mouth opening but no sound coming out. Fear grips his heart, and his magic roils beneath the surface, dangerously close to breaking free from his control._

_"Mate, you don't want to do this," Will says from beside him._

_"This whole town would be better without_   _him_ ," _Kanen spits. He glares at Merlin. "I know you cursed my mum somehow, admit it!"_

_"No I didn't!" Merlin shouts hotly. "She was sick, it wasn't my fault!"_

_"What about when that tree fell on Old Man Simmons? You're telling me that wasn't you?"_

_Merlin blinks back tears. "That was an accident!"_

_Kanen pulls back the safety on the gun. "You're dangerous. Everyone knows there's something not right about you. You only bring trouble. Someone needs to stop you, and if the others are too cowardly to do it then I will."_

_He pulls the trigger._

_Will steps in front of Merlin._

_Time slows. The gunshot echoes through the air, Kanen's expression shifting into surprise, and Will crumples backwards into Merlin's arms._

_"No!"_

_Time rushes onwards. Kanen stares at Will in shock, face drained of color as Merlin cradles Will, frantically trying to stem the blood spilling from his chest._

_"It was me," Will wheezes. "I'm the freak. I cursed your mum, made that tree fall on Simmons."_

_Kanen takes a step back. "What?"_

_"Yeah." Will nods, face contorted in pain. "I just made it seem like Merlin. Bet you're glad you shot the right person, huh? You know, it's still murder."_

_"Will, no-" Tears streak down Merlin's face, hands slippery with Will's blood. He barely notices Kanen drop the gun and run away, footsteps fading in the distance._

_"Merlin." Will looks up at him. "I'm sorry."_

_Merlin shakes his head. "No, no."_

_Will chokes and shudders in Merlin's grasp, face white and teeth gritted in pain. He_ _grips for Merlin's hand, pain-glazed eyes finding his._ _"I'm scared, Merlin. Merlin, I'm scared."_  

_"Don't be. It'll be all right," Merlin says desperately. He presses his hands into Will's chest, forcing his unruly magic into the wound._

_It sparks and sputters, coiling around Will's body in golden wisps that soon dissipate. Will jerks once, hand squeezing Merlin's, before growing still, eyes fixed and staring._

_"No. Will. No." He throws his magic into the wound again, willing it to do something, anything._

_The wisps drift away, Will's hand slipping to the ground lifelessly._

_"No, why isn't it working? Come on!" Merlin tries again, and again, drawing on his power uselessly until he screams in frustration, slumping over Will in defeat._

_"I can't," he sobs. "Will, I can't-"_

Merlin wakes with a start, gasping and trembling. 

"Merlin, Merlin-"

Suddenly Lance is in front of him, rubbing a soothing hand down his arm. 

"Hey. We're in your flat. I brought you here from the bank."

Merlin nods breathlessly, memories rushing back in and making him nauseous. He's still in his gear, hood and mask down, and when he looks down at his hands they're stained with blood. 

He gets to his feet abruptly, pushing past Lance and heading for the bathroom. He turns on the sink and runs his hands under the water, furiously scrubbing at them as a sob tears from his chest. The water turns pink, swirling down the drain and then running clear, but still Merlin scrubs at his hands, breaths coming hard and fast. Tears blur his vision, the hot water burning his hands but the pain welcome.

Footsteps sound and gentle hands encircle his wrists, tugging them away. A squeak and the water turns off. 

"I couldn't save him," Merlin chokes out. "I couldn't-"

Then he's turning, falling into Lance's arms and sobbing as Lance holds him tight, an anchor in a vast ocean of grief.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this chapter: Friendship and Angst


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur scowls at the paper sitting on his desk, silently cursing Morgana as he picks it up.

_Emrys Stops Robbery, Saves Citizen,_ the headline reads, a blurry surveillance camera shot showing Emrys with hands outstretched and eyes glowing unnaturally even in black and white.

Arthur had gotten the call last night just as he was finishing dinner. Emrys had stopped a robbery, but there'd been a mishap, they said. Someone tried to shoot Emrys and hit another civilian.

Arthur's blood had run cold.  _Are they alive?_ he'd asked.

_Thanks to Emrys,_ was the reply. Arthur hadn't believed it until he saw the security footage they sent him.

He brings it up again on his computer, hitting play. He sees the security guard pull the gun, sees the blur as Emrys moves too fast to be natural, the bullet barely missing him and impacting the civilian. Emrys whirls, rushing forwards to catch him and lowering him to the ground, but the shooter keeps his gun trained on Emrys. There's a moment when Emrys looks up, eyes blazing with rage, crumpling the shooter's gun like paper, and Arthur's breath catches because Emrys is  _terrifying,_ and all that power is trained on one defenseless man. 

Then Emrys seems to hesitate, and drops his hand, and Arthur exhales in relief. Emrys lays his hands on the wounded man, and then a miracle happens.

Arthur has seen Emrys do many impossible things, but this is beyond belief. Golden light swirls around Emrys' hands, pouring into the wound in glittering threads, and as the police try to breach the doors the people inside rally, turning them away and barricading themselves inside. Emrys seems deaf to it all, body braced and taught as he works his magic. The film is grainy, features hard to make out, but Arthur sees the wounded man gasp, eyes flying open as Emrys slumps over him.

Two brave souls touch Emrys' arms lightly, pulling him away as the police grow nearer to breaking in. Emrys seems barely cognizant, swaying and stumbling between them, eyes no longer a brilliant gold. Arthur can't make it out on the feed, but he would bet that Emrys' eyes are blue.

The people lead him away down a hallway and the cameras lose them. In the bank, the wounded man sits up, staring down at his bloodstained shirt.

_The wound is gone,_ the stunned man had told him when he'd arrived on the scene.  _Like it never even happened._

Arthur had interviewed all the witnesses, but all of them resolutely defended Emrys and refused to tell him anything besides how grateful they were. There was no evidence besides Emrys' bloodstained gloves, which the on-call CSIs collected. Arthur had tried to call Merlin, but he never picked up. 

He's certainly going to give Merlin an earful about not answering his calls when he sees him. He turns off the recording and gathers his things, marching down to the break room where people are just filing in. Merlin is standing next to the coffee maker, watching the liquid drip into the carafe with a glazed expression on his face as the inspectors huddle around Elyan, listening to him read the article about Emrys. He looks more pale than usual, if that's even possible, and the dark smudges under his eyes tell of sleeplessness. So if he wasn't sleeping when Arthur called, what the hell was he doing?

"Merlin."

Merlin startles at Arthur's voice, blinking at him in surprise. "Arthur."

Arthur sidles closer, bumping his shoulder with Merlin and lowering his voice, previous anger melting into concern. "I called you last night, but you didn't pick up."

"Oh. Sorry." This close, Merlin looks exhausted, the blue of his eyes somehow dimmer and skin waxy and pale. "I was asleep."

"Really? Then why do you look like you've been up all night?"

"I was. I-" Merlin fiddles with his sleeve, looking away from Arthur. "I have trouble sleeping, because I get nightmares, so sometimes I sleep at weird times." His voice is soft, almost inaudible.

"Oh." Suddenly it all makes perfect sense. Merlin's perpetual look of sleep-deprivation, why he always oversleeps or falls asleep during the day, why he's so cagey about it. No wonder he has nightmares, if he's seen two of his friends die. And his strange moods, why he swings from upbeat to irritable to downright depressive. Post-traumatic stress explains so much.

Arthur captures Merlin's hand, giving cold fingers a slight squeeze. A quick glance shows no one in the room is looking at them, and their voices are pitched too low to carry. 

"I'm sorry," Arthur says. "I didn't even think." He hesitates, not used to talking about these things.  _Toughen up,_ his father had always impressed on him.  _Boys don't cry._ He doesn't know how to deal with someone as fragile as Merlin is right now.

"If you ever need help sleeping, call me," is what comes out. Arthur blushes, the unintentional meaning of his words catching up to him. "I mean, to talk," he hastily corrects. "Um..."

Merlin smiles, waggling his eyebrows at Arthur as he leans closer, into his space. "And what if I don't just want to talk?"

"Well." Arthur swallows, eyes flicking down to Merlin's lips. "I think that could be arranged."

Merlin smiles again, softening the lines of his face. "I want to kiss you," he murmurs. 

"What's stopping you?" 

Merlin leans forwards instead of responding, pressing his mouth to Arthur's.

"Yes!" Elyan suddenly yells. "I win!"

"Mother _fucker,"_ comes Gwaine's voice. "I was so close."

They break apart to see the inspectors watching them with varying expressions of glee and disappointment, Elyan holding his hand out with a smug expression while the others dig into their wallets. Gwen is smiling over a bagel.

"Did you...bet on us?" Arthur asks incredulously.

"No," all of them but Gwaine chorus.

"Seriously, you couldn't have waited a week?" Gwaine groans.

"I'm going to kill you," Arthur declares flatly.

* * *

Uther calls Arthur into his office mid-morning, and as soon as Arthur sees the newspaper on his desk he knows this won't go well.

"I thought you were going to get Morgana to stop publishing this nonsense?" Uther asks.

Arthur swallows. "You know Morgana, once she's set her mind to something there's nothing anyone can do."

Uther stands, pacing his office as Arthur sits on the uncomfortable chair, trying not to fidget.  "Something must be done," he says tersely. "Emrys has become a public menace. Ordinary citizens are turning against the police, trusting a dangerous vigilante sorcerer over the law. This can't go on."

"I agree," Arthur replies, ignoring the voice in his head that says differently. 

Uther stops his pacing to fix stern eyes on Arthur. "I want everyone who helped Emrys in that bank arrested."

Arthur stares in shock. "Father-"

"They broke the law when they aided and abetted a known criminal," Uther says resolutely. "Tell them that if they wish to remain out of jail, they need to cooperate with us."

"If we do this, we'll only turn the public more against us," Arthur counters.

"Be that as it may, the law is the law. Emrys is dangerous, and left to his own devices he would destroy everything we've built. Issue a statement saying all those caught helping Emrys will be punished accordingly. And I want you to discredit Emrys. I don't care how you do it, find something to turn the public against him."

"You want me to lie?" The thought makes Arthur uneasy. He wants to capture Emrys, but he's not so sure his father is right. 'Left to his own devices,' Emrys had saved a man's life at risk to himself. Besides, Arthur won't arrest Camelot's people for the simple act of helping the man who's saved them time and again. Had they not barricaded that door, Emrys might not have had time to save that man's life. 

Uther waves a hand. "Just bend the truth. I'm sure there's something on Emrys that can be spun in a negative light."

Arthur shakes his head. "No. I won't lie to the people, and I won't arrest them for helping save someone's life."

"You  _will_ ," Uther growls. 

Arthur stands up. "You'll have to do it yourself."

He walks out.

* * *

Arthur stands with the rest of the DIs on the steps of the precinct, watching from behind as Uther speaks into the microphones set up on a podium.

"-vigilante known as Emrys is a dangerous, unnatural individual who only seeks to further his own agenda. Left unchecked, he would bring destruction and strife to this city. Some of you have been temped to regard him as a hero. I'm here to say that Emrys is no hero, that his actions are nothing more than tricks designed to fool you into a false sense of safety. Make no mistake, Emrys is not human, and holds no care for our lives. I'm sure you've heard of the recent murders, two young people taken, experimented on, and killed. I know it will come as a shock to learn that we believe Emrys responsible."

There's a gasp from the crowd, mutters rising before Uther quiets them with a hand. Arthur clenches his fists, nails cutting into his palms.

"Yes," Uther says. "It's true. They've been connected to a string of others going back years, and we believe the experiments Emrys conducted on them gave him his powers. His actions, his saves, are simply ways to test his power, and he could be searching for his next victim as we speak."

More gasps, horrified. Arthur grits his teeth.

"The police are working diligently to apprehend him," Uther continues. "We urge anyone with any information to come forwards, to stop Emrys before it's too late. Anyone caught helping Emrys will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Rest assured, Emrys will be caught, and the Camelot Police will do everything in our power to protect the people of this fine city. Thank you."

There's a bang, but instead of Emrys it's a woman who appears from nowhere, standing at the bottom of the steps staring up at Uther with hatred on her face. She looks young but at the same time ageless, eyes a shocking shade of blue and lips red against her pale skin, dark hair flowing around her shoulders. She wears a ripped red dress, accentuating her slim figure and completing the ethereal look at it gathers around her bare feet.

"Uther," she says in a high, cold voice. "It's been a long time, has it not?"

Uther goes gray, clutching the sides of the podium even as he straightens his spine, face hardening. "Arrest her."

Constables move forward but the woman throws her hands out, eyes flaring gold, and they stop in their tracks. Arthur stares in shock. Another powerful sorcerer, here?

The woman tuts, climbing the steps slowly. "Oh Uther, surely you know better than anyone how powerful I am." She stops when she's in front of the podium, turning to the stunned audience.

"My name is Nimueh Blake. And, like many others, I have magic." 

The crowd murmurs. 

"Oh yes," Nimueh says. "Magic exists, and though our numbers have grown smaller we are still here. We have hidden for years, shunned and persecuted by this man." She points to Uther, kept still by her magic. "It is he that has driven our kind into the shadows, who has shackled us and poisoned us for the magic that flows through our veins. It is he who is behind the killings."

She pauses for effect, and Arthur's stomach drops out at her words. No. It can't be true, can it? His father hates magic, but not that much...surely?

"A dozen of us," Nimueh growls. "All magical people. Gilli, magical. Sefa, magical. All of them, magical. Experimented on and then tossed aside like trash. There is only one man who can be behind such an act, one man who hates magic that much. He has long wanted to study us, to figure out how to restrain and eliminate us once and for all. But no more!"

She turns back to Uther, a wicked smile on her face. "You will die, Uther Pendragon, and with your death magical people will be free once more. Remember, it was I who granted your wish."

"I wish you hadn't." Everyone turns to Uther in surprise.

Nimueh looks momentarily shocked before her smile grows once more. "You wish you didn't have a son?"

Arthur feels the breath punch out of him.  _What?_

"Then you shall have your wish," Nimueh proclaims. "Before I kill you, I'll make you watch Arthur die, like I have watched so many of my kind die."

She thrusts her hand at Arthur, and he has a split second to wonder what she meant before there's a flash and a bang, and Arthur blinks open eyes he didn't know he closed to see the back of a familiar black-clothed figure right in front of him, a golden shield shimmering in the air between him and Nimueh momentarily before it dissolves.

"You will not harm him," Emrys says, voice carrying through the air, and even through the distortion it rings with authority.

Nimueh stares in shock, face twisting in rage. "You would betray your own kind?" she hisses.

"You betray our kind when you use your powers to harm," Emrys replies calmly. "Uther is not responsible for the murders, and neither is Arthur. Nor am I," he adds. "I came to Camelot to bring the true killer to justice, but that will never be achieved if we don't work together."

"Work together? With  _them?"_ Nimueh scoffs. "Never. Don't you see, Emrys? They are nothing compared to us. Together, we could rule over them, make magic reign again."

Arthur holds his breath.

Emrys shakes his head. "I don't want that."

"You'd rather bow to their whims? Be a slave to pathetic humans who don't possess a spark of power?"

"No, I'd have us be equals. Magic doesn't make us better, just different, and we have a responsibility to use it for good."

Arthur feels a surge of pride and something else as he watches Nimueh's eyes harden over Emrys' shoulder.  _Noble,_ he'd told Emrys, and he was right. His father, Nimueh, they're all wrong. Emrys is genuinely  _good._

"You're naive, Emrys," Nimueh intones, something like regret coloring her voice. "We could have been great allies." 

With a sharp movement she thrusts out her hand, eyes going gold. Arthur opens his mouth to shout, to warn Emrys, but he's already reacting, the golden shield raising again and absorbing the blow of whatever power Nimueh had thrown at him. Electricity crackles and arcs along the shield before dissipating, Emrys standing unharmed. 

Nimueh screams in frustration and lashes out again, sending a burst of flame shooting towards them. Emrys throws up an arm and it hits the shield, licking around the edges and making Arthur's face warm from the heat. Nimueh pushes forwards, the pure energy pulsing against the shield as Emrys digs in his heels and pushes back, both hands now up and visibly struggling against her.

Nimueh's eyes dart to the side, the only warning before she shoots a fireball at Uther, dropping her attack on Emrys. Emrys is quicker, a shield springing to life in front of Uther just in time to deflect it. He reaches out a hand, makes a fist, and Nimueh drops to her knees.

Nimueh seems to struggle against the invisible force keeping her down, eyes flaring gold as she suddenly springs to her feet. Emrys staggers back and Arthur reaches out a hand to steady him, feeling Emrys' shoulder press into his hand before he rocks forward again, hands raised and crackling with electricity. Nimueh raises her hands as well, both of them heaving for breath. Nimueh looks shaken, and Arthur realizes with relief that Emrys has the upper hand here.

"This isn't over, Emrys," Nimueh snarls. In the blink of an eye she vanishes into thin air.

Arthur sees Emrys' shoulders relax slightly. There's a moment of silence, and then chaos erupts.

"Seize him!" Uther shouts. 

Constables start towards Emrys hesitantly, a few not even drawing their guns and looking apologetic. A murmur starts in the crowd, growing to a crescendo. Emrys turns to Arthur and winks before vanishing.

The noise swells. Uther yells something. Arthur stares at the spot where Emrys vanished, a small smile curving his lips.

* * *

Arthur slips into the empty lab, leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths. The noise from outside still rings in his ears, the accusing voices swirling around his head and jabbing him with pinpricks of guilt and confusion. It seems the people are now firmly on Emrys' side, and against Uther. And, by extension, Arthur. As Uther had tried to explain about magic they had accused Uther of the murders, derided him for knowing about magic and not telling them, lambasted him for putting the blame on Emrys, questioned how he knew Nimueh and what she had meant by his wish, nearly mobbed the podium, and forced all of them to take refuge inside as riot teams tried to quell the incensed crowd.

_I'm not the villain,_ Arthur wants to scream.  _I'm trying to save magical people._

"Are you alright?"

Arthur startles, blinking to find Merlin in front of him. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Did you hear about what happened?"

"Hard not to," Merlin replies, edging closer to lay a hand on Arthur's arm. Arthur glances around with a frown, wondering when Merlin had gotten here, and why he hadn't noticed him come in. He'd never even heard the door open.

"Why are you in here? Arthur questions. "I thought this was empty."

Merlin shrugs. "Saw you slip in here, followed you."

Arthur frowns. He hadn't seen Merlin in the precinct, and Gwen said she hadn't seen him since before the press conference. He means to ask, but he's too overwhelmed to think straight and he settles for dropping his head onto Merlin's shoulder, letting himself relax in the relative safety of the silent room.

He feels Merlin's fingers card through his hair. "I'm sorry," Merlin murmurs.

"What for?" 

Merlin is silent for a moment, fingers still running gently through Arthur's hair. "They'll settle down," he finally says. "It's a shock, learning about magic, and Nimueh said a lot of things. It'll die down in a few days once everything is straightened out."

"I hope so." Arthur sighs. "You'd think they'd actually listen to what Emrys said, with how much they love him. My father didn't kill those people."

"I know." Merlin's voice is soothing. "But right now, their whole world has been turned upside down, and they need someone to blame. It'll go away, especially once we find the real killer."

Arthur lifts his head, meeting Merlin's eyes. "I'm not sure if we will," he says honestly. "Everything is a dead end. Even Emrys can't bring him down."

Merlin cups Arthur's cheeks, blue eyes intense. "Emrys was working alone before. You're the best inspector in the city, Arthur. You won't fail. And I believe in you." He smiles. "I always have."

Arthur is speechless, captivated by the unfaltering belief in Merlin's eyes. There's something building in his chest, a feeling that terrifies him in its enormity. Their faces are inches apart, both breathing the same air, the moment suspended in time like a bead of water on the edge of a glass.

"Go out with me," he blurts.

Merlin's mouth curves up and his brow crinkles. "I thought we already were?"

"On a date," Arthur clarifies. "A real one."

"Oh." Merlin bites his lip, drawing Arthur's eyes. "Yes."

Arthur's gaze flicks back up. "Yes?"

Merlin grins. "Yes." He pulls Arthur in, crushing their mouths together, and Arthur can feel him smile against his lips.

* * *

Arthur finds himself in Uther's office again, the mood decidedly more tense. 

"The sorceress today," Uther starts. "I knew her."

"She's the one who killed my mother, isn't she?"

Uther stares at him for a moment, mouth open, before collecting himself. "Yes. How did you know?"

"I put the pieces together. She said she granted you a wish, and implied that it was for a son. You two seemed to have history. It was obvious, really." Arthur's tone is biting. He knows he's a damn good inspector (the best, according to Merlin), and if his father thinks he can keep things from him he's sorely mistaken. 

Uther clears his throat. "Right. I haven't seen her in many years, not since that night. I thought her long gone, but apparently not. God only knows why she chose now to reappear."

"The murders," Arthur interjects. "She's back because of the murders. She thinks you had a hand in them."

"That's ridiculous." Uther's eyes, at least, hold truth. "I may not like sorcerers, but I don't want them dead. They are part of Camelot's people."

Relief unfurls inside of Arthur. His father truly is innocent. He may be a bit prejudiced, but he's not a murderer.

"She's misled, then," Arthur notes. "But more than that, she wants to rule over non-magical people. We can't risk others joining her cause."

Uther nods. "Precisely. We will have to keep a closer eye on the magical community, tighten restrictions. I want to know every single sorcerer in the city, and I want them under watch."

"Father, surely that's a bit extreme. Plus, by tightening restrictions, you'd be playing into Nimueh's hands. The magical community will be more likely to join her if they feel they're being treated unfairly."

"Perhaps." Uther looks contemplative. "Now that the secret of magic is out, there will be tension on both sides. We must do our best to mediate affairs between magical and non-magical. I'll send more patrols out for neighborhoods with sorcerers, to start. Arthur, I know we've had our differences, especially where magic is concerned, but I need us to be a united front on this."

Arthur nods uneasily. "As long as you are putting the well-being of sorcerers first, and treating the people of Camelot fairly."

Uther scowls. "I pride myself on being a fair and just man, Arthur. I have more experience dealing with magical people than you."

Arthur snaps. "But you hate them! Can't you see that you are blinded by your prejudice?" 

"Enough!" Uther slaps a hand on the desk. "I won't hear it. I've always done what's best for Camelot, no matter how I feel. Someday, perhaps, you will understand what it means to handle the entire magical community, but you have little experience, Arthur. Follow my lead, and we may get through this without problems."

Arthur swallows his pride, feeling like he's a small child again. His conviction shrivels, confidence dying out, and he bows his head. "Yes, father."

* * *

Morgana shows up at his flat that evening, breezing in as if she owns the place and without even proper greeting.

"The secret is out," she says. "Now everyone knows that magic is real, and that Uther has been oppressing magic users for years."

"Hello Morgana, good to see you, yes, please, come in," Arthur intones dryly. "Are you here just to tell me things I already know, or is there some point to this?"

Morgana shoots him a sharp look. "Are you saying you agree that Uther has been oppressing magic users?"

Arthur shrugs, flopping on the couch and leaning his head back. "I think he's done the best he can. I don't think he's necessarily 'oppressing' them, but I can understand their frustration."

"Really?" Morgana perches on the other end of the couch. "What about you? If you were in Uther's place, what would you do?"

Arthur thinks. "I'm not sure. I understand the reasons for keeping magic hidden, but what you said last time...you were right, Morgana. They deserve to be able to live openly."

"Of course I was right," Morgana sniffs. "But you really believe that?"

"I do." As he says it Arthur realizes it's the truth. "I would make sorcerers accepted and equal to everyone else, and let them use their powers as long as they didn't hurt anyone. I'd create special classes for kids just getting their magic, so they'd learn how to control it and they wouldn't feel so alone. Maybe there could be specialized jobs so sorcerers could use their powers for good, and magic integrated into society to make it run more efficiently." He realizes he's been rambling and shrugs, sheepish. "I don't know. I'm just an inspector."

Morgana launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a strangling hold as she crushes him into the couch.

"Ouch. Morgana-" Arthur coughs. "What-what was that for?"

Morgana pulls back, readjusting her clothes and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes are suspiciously wet.

"Nothing," she says. "I'm just happy you've finally come to your senses."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Right. I suppose next you want me to say I was wrong about Emrys."

Morgana looks abruptly gleeful. "You _have_ changed your mind about him."

"No," Arthur lies. "Of course not. He's still a criminal."

Morgana's mouth curls in a smirk and she leans closer. "But you like him anyway."

"No, I don't."

"Tell me," Morgana continues, ignoring him, "is he as hot under those clothes as he is in them?"

"What? I-you-how would I know?" Arthur sputters. "I-we haven't-no, I'm-I'm dating Merlin, if you must know."

"Oh!" Morgana's eyes light up. "It's about time."

Arthur scowls. "Not you too."

"So you're not shagging Emrys?" Morgana asks.

"No! Why the hell would you think that?"

"Oh well." Morgana shrugs. "You'd make a hot couple. Don't tell me the all-black and the glowing eyes and the sheer power don't turn you on. Plus the fact that he keeps saving your life."

"I'm not attracted to Emrys," Arthur snaps, ignoring the fact that he really, really is, and the guilt that rises up at the thought of Merlin. "He's a menace, is what he is."

"Mmmhmm." Morgana nods sagely. "Right. That's why you've stopped chasing him."

"I haven't..." Arthur blinks and realizes that yes, he stopped chasing Emrys a while ago. "It's only because he's too powerful to arrest," Arthur tries. "I'm waiting until we have something to block his magic."

"Whatever you say." Morgana smirks. "So, tell me more about you and Merlin."

Arthur groans. "I hate you."

* * *

 After the events of the day, it's really not a surprise when Emrys shows up in his flat late that night. Arthur doesn't even startle when he appears, just takes another sip from the glass of whiskey he's nursing.

"Thanks," he says, not looking at Emrys. "For saving my life today."

"You're welcome." Emrys perches on the chair across from him, crossing his legs. 

Arthur finally looks up, pointing a finger. "Don't think this means I've stopped trying to arrest you. Even if you saved my life a thousand times, it wouldn't change anything. It's my job."

"I understand." Emrys looks unruffled by Arthur's repeated threat. Arthur wonders why Emrys keeps saving him, knowing that Arthur will never stop hunting him. He wonders why Emrys went against his own time to save Arthur, to save  _Uther,_ when he knew the only thanks he would get would be a prison cell.

"Do you know her? Nimueh?" Arthur asks instead.

Emrys shakes his head. "No. I've never even heard of her before."

Arthur swirls the last of the whiskey around the bottom of the glass. "She killed my mother."

"I'm sorry." From anyone else, it would fall flat, but Emrys' voice carries a sincerity and an understanding that speaks to Arthur. Emrys has lost his father, Arthur remembers. They are not so different.

"I'll bring her in," Emrys says quietly. "She's powerful. I don't want anyone else to get hurt." 

Arthur nods. "Unless we can stick her with magic suppressant. I won't tell you to stay out of this, because I know you won't. Just...if in the process of catching her, I get a chance to catch you...I'll take it."

"Yes, you keep saying that. I believe you."

Arthur feels a surge of annoyance. "Then why do you keep saving me? Why are you talking to me right now, when I keep threatening to lock you away for the rest of your life?"

Emrys is silent a moment, and Arthur thinks he isn't going to respond before he says, "Because I think you're a good man, and one day you'll be an even greater one."

It's too simple an answer. Arthur shakes his head. "That can't be the only reason."

Emrys spreads his hands. "It's the only one I can give you."

Arthur drains the last of his drink and sets the glass on the coffee table. "I've figured out some things about you, you know."

"Yeah, like what?" Emrys' voice is soft.

"Like the fact that your eyes are actually blue."

Emrys stiffens. "How do you know that?"

"When I injected you with the suppressant, your eyes turned blue. Sorcerers eyes only glow gold when they're doing magic. You can drop the illusion."

Emrys shakes his head. "Nope, I'm not falling for that. You know how recognizable eyes are? What if you saw me in real life and figured out who I am?"

Arthur's heart pounds. "In real life, huh? So what, you're just a normal person, somewhere in Camelot? I might have passed you on the street and never known?"

"Maybe." There's an undercurrent of humor in Emrys' voice mixed with sadness, and Arthur has a growing suspicion that he  _has_ seen Emrys before. Maybe they were in the same line at a coffee shop, or he was in the car ahead of Arthur in traffic, or he was out walking his dog and Arthur jogged past. They could have passed a thousand times and he would never know, but somehow he feels like he's seen Emrys before, seen those blue eyes somewhere else.

"Tell me about yourself," he says. "You're just a regular person, right? Probably have a day job, a flat, maybe a girlfriend."

Emrys chuckles softly. "No girlfriend. But yes, I'm a regular person. I'm not going to tell you anything about myself though, because I know you're just fishing. I could tell you I have a cat and tomorrow you'll have figured out who I am."

"Do you have a cat?"

Emrys gives him a look. Arthur raises his hands. "Alright, alright, I get it. Just curious." He files the information away for later.  _Emrys might have a cat._

He hears Emrys take a breath. "Here's what I can tell you."

Arthur sits forwards, interested.

"I never knew my father until he died in my arms," Emrys says. "I used to make toys float to my crib when I was a baby. Only five people in my life have ever known about my magic, and two of them are dead. I once got angry as a child and shattered every window in the house without meaning to. I can make time slow and control the elements. Animals seem to love me, for some reason. When I was a child, I used to play with fawns in the meadow. Once, I floated my friend in the air so he could reach an apple on a tree."

They're pieces of Emrys, small fragments and memories that start to put together a picture of who he is. Not his identity, not his name, but who he is as a person, the truth that lies in his heart. 

Arthur smiles. "I didn't know I had a half-sister until I was twelve. We fight all the time, but we love each other. Once, when I was a child, I broke a china dish and blamed it on the housekeeper. My father had a locked drawer where he kept pictures of my mother. I used to pick the lock and look at them when he wasn't there. When I was eight, I fell out of a tree and broke my arm. I've only really dated two people in my entire life, and I've never been in love."

He can't see Emrys' expression, but something has changed between them. It feels like a new beginning, like finally seeing the sun through the clouds, like maybe they really are just two ordinary people thrust into something extraordinary. Arthur feels like he's known Emrys his entire life.

"Thank you," Emrys breathes. The next instant he's gone, as if he was never there in the first place.

* * *

The next day brings more work for Arthur and his team. Morgana has written a tell-all about magic in the paper, using quotes that Arthur had given her the day before. He hopes it'll be enough to quell the wave of outcry and accusation that's risen up, with people on the internet either spewing hatred towards Uther or expressing fear over the presence of sorcerers. Neither one is particularly better than the other, in Arthur's opinion.

He hopes his quotes in the paper will help the magical community trust him, even if they don't trust Uther. He'd given his honest opinion, stating that he wished for equality and acceptance for sorcerers, and encouraged them to come to him with issues. He'd also asserted that his father had nothing to do with the murders and neither did Emrys, and that the case is ongoing.

He knows he didn't need to clear Emrys' name, but truthfully he'd rather the magical community rally around Emrys than Nimueh. At least Emrys is a known quantity and, in Arthur's opinion, a good man, while Nimueh is at the very least a murderer and wants to rule over non-magical people. For Arthur it's an easy decision.

The encounter with Emrys plays on his mind. He hasn't told anyone about these strange meetings, not even Merlin, and he feels almost like he's cheating on him. It's absurd, but Arthur can't deny that he has a connection with Emrys and is attracted to him, and meeting with him in secret to share personal information he's never told anyone else feels wrong. 

He should tell Merlin. But on the other hand, their small meetings feel private, something only between them. Emrys trusted him with parts of himself, and Arthur can't break that trust. 

Why does he care so much about a vigilante's feelings? He shouldn't. They're not friends. If anything, they're enemies, based on the fact that Arthur is trying to arrest Emrys. So why does he feel like he's known Emrys forever? Why does he feel like he can tell him anything? Why does he  _care_ so much about him?

It's gratitude, Arthur tells himself. That's all. He's grateful to Emrys for saving his life, and right now Emrys is their best defense against Nimueh. Nothing more. 

A little voice whispers that that's a lie. Arthur ignores it.

He turns to the board in his office, where all his information about Emrys is taped up. There's an outline in the center, with a question mark over the face. He goes over the stats they've collected.

Sex: Male

Race: White

Age: 20-30 years (?)

Height: 5'11."

Weight: ~77kg.

Build: Slim

Eye color: Blue

That's it, all he has to go on. A white male of slightly taller than average height with blue eyes and a slim build. No, not quite slim, he thinks. There's definitely muscle on Emrys' frame, his shoulders broad and arms defined, though the padding of the jacket and the multiple pockets might account for some of the bulk. He catches his mind drifting to what Emrys might look like under the black clothing and shakes his head, cursing himself and Morgana for putting the thought in his head.  _Focus._

They had found Emrys' discarded gloves in the bank, but they hadn't offered them anything they don't already know. They already have his DNA, and besides the interesting markers Gwen is obsessed with it's a dead end. Emrys could be anyone.

Again Arthur wonders if he's seen Emrys in real life. Maybe he's even met him, shaken hands. Maybe he's heard his real voice. He wonders what it sounds like. Low and silky, or higher-pitched, clear and ringing? 

Realizing he's straying into dangerous territory again Arthur reels his thoughts in, focusing on Merlin. He needs to stop fantasizing about mysterious magical vigilantes he can never, _ever_ have and focus on the real man right in front of him who's actually interested in him. Arthur had asked him out on a date, but with everything going on he hasn't thought about it at all, and this is the perfect thing to take his mind off Emrys.

But how to plan a date? Arthur has dated exactly two people in his life, both of them in uni, and both of them involved more shagging and less actual romance. He wants to do this right with Merlin.

He needs advice. But who to ask? Gwaine, never. Morgana? Arthur shivers. Definitely not. Leon, maybe, but it would feel weird. Percy and Elyan were both part of the bet to get Merlin and him together. He's not sure they wouldn't just laugh at him instead of give him advice. 

That leaves... _Gwen._ Of course. Gwen and Lance have the most sickeningly perfect relationship Arthur's ever seen, and Gwen is Merlin's best friend. Plus, he's pretty sure she won't laugh at him. Pretty sure.

He waits until Merlin leaves for the day and then ventures down to the lab, knocking perfunctorily. Gwen looks up, beckoning him in with a smile, and Arthur is glad to see she's alone in the lab.

"Arthur," she says. "How are you?"

"I'm doing alright," he responds. "Listen, Guinevere, can I ask you something?"

She turns in her swivel chair, giving him her full attention. "Of course. Ask away."

"Well," Arthur hesitates, feeling his face heat up. "You're, uh, Merlin's best friend."

Gwen looks amused. "Yes, I suppose so."

Arthur scratches his head. "Well, see, the thing is, I'm not great at, um, dating. And I asked Merlin out but I'm not sure...what to do."

"Oh!" Gwen giggles, then composes herself. "Sorry. So you came to me for advice?"

"Er, yeah, I suppose so. I mean, you and Lance are-you have a great relationship, so I figured....and I want to do this right, because it's Merlin, and, well..."

Gwen pats his arm with a sympathetic expression. "You came to the right place."

"You'll help?"

"Of course." Gwen squeezes his arm. "What are friends for?"

* * *

Arthur knocks on the door to Merlin's flat, straightening the cuffs of his blue shirt and brushing imaginary lint off grey trousers. There's rustling from inside and then the door swings open.

Arthur's jaw drops. Merlin is dressed in slim jeans that seem molded to his legs, a red button-up, and a black leather jacket that Arthur immediately wants to peel him out of. His hair is tousled and falls in perfect waves over his forehead, the hint of scruff on his chin only making him more attractive, and the way he rakes his gaze up and down Arthur's form makes heat flush up his chest.

"You look great," Arthur rushes to say, realizing he's been staring too long.

Merlin grins. "You too."

Arthur gestures with a sweep of his hand. "Shall we?"

They make their way downstairs and into Arthur's car, pulling away into the busy streets. The restaurant is a few blocks away, a small Italian place tucked between a bookstore and a coffee shop. Arthur gives the waitress their reservation and she leads them to a table in the back, the space quiet enough for conversation.

Arthur is nervous until he reminds himself, as Gwen had said, that he and Merlin eat meals together all the time, and this should be no different.  _Be yourself,_ Gwen had said. Arthur almost snorts.  _Be himself?_ Not a great idea.

Then again, Merlin seems to like him even though Arthur has been his real-often rude and insensitive-self the entire time they've known each other. There must be  _something_ about Arthur's personality that Merlin likes. Or maybe it's just his looks? No, Merlin isn't that shallow. They've been friends for a while.

_Stop overthinking,_ he chastises himself.

"What are you getting?" he asks.

Merlin looks up from his menu. "I'm not sure yet. What do you recommend?"

"Hmmm." Arthur studies the menu, trying to think of what Merlin would like best from all he knows about him. "I'd say get the mushroom risotto."

Merlin nods, closing his menu "Alright."

They settle into easy conversation after that, giving the waitress their orders when she comes back and sipping at their drinks as they talk, Arthur relaxing as the evening wears on. Their food comes, delicious and filling, and he unabashedly watches Merlin throughout the dinner-the way his lips wrap around the spoon, the bob of his throat as he takes a drink, the way his hand cuts through the air as he talks. 

Merlin is currently talking about something to do with forensics, rattling off technical terms and chemistry Arthur can't hope to follow but tries anyway, nodding along and drinking in every word. Abruptly he stops, flushing red and ducking his head.

"Sorry, you probably don't understand a word I'm saying."

"Well, it can't be too complicated, if  _you_ understand it," Arthur replies smoothly. Then he freezes.  _Shite._ He's just insulted Merlin, on their  _first date._ Christ, Merlin is right. He's a prat.

But Merlin just laughs, looking relieved. "Prat," he says fondly, and Arthur has an epiphany. Merlin  _likes_ him. He genuinely, truly likes him, prattishness and all.

"Idiot," Arthur replies, the way he always does, but now he knows what it  _means,_ their exchange-the insults that aren't really insults, not anymore.

"Dollophead," Merlin counters.

Arthur just smiles, struck by the sudden urge to kiss Merlin.

So he does.


	8. Chapter 8

Merlin gasps as Arthur kisses down his neck, hands slipping beneath his shirt and rucking it up. Arthur pulls back just enough to slip Merlin's shirt over his head before diving back in, kissing a trail down his chest. He stops at the scar on Merlin's side, running fingers over it. 

"You're Emrys," Arthur says, voice cold and flat.

Merlin freezes, pinned like a butterfly to the wall by Arthur's hand on his hip, holding him there while the other traces over the scars littering his torso. His hand drifts up, skimming the bullet wound in Merlin's shoulder, before wrapping around his throat. 

He squeezes and Merlin chokes, hands flying up to grasp Arthur's wrist. Arthur's eyes are cold and blue and unfeeling, and Merlin struggles futilely against his iron grip, slowly losing consciousness. 

"Please," he chokes out. "Arthur, please-"

Merlin wakes with a gasp, sitting up and sucking in deep lungfuls of air to banish the feeling of pressure on his throat. There's a disgruntled mew and Aithusa clambers into his lap, evidently having been disturbed from her place at Merlin's side by his rude awakening. He strokes her soft head, focusing on slowing his breathing and forcing down the magic prickling uncomfortably underneath his skin. 

He groans, dropping his head back against the headboard. Dating Arthur had seemed so simple, so natural, that he had forgotten the glaring problem that is eventually  _sleeping_ with Arthur. One look at Merlin's scars and Arthur will put the pieces together, or at least suspect something. No normal person has a gunshot scar without a record of it happening or a story to go with it. 

It's a problem, a serious problem, because Merlin really likes Arthur. Last night was perfect, and made Merlin fall harder for Arthur than before. Arthur had walked him to his door at the end of the night and Merlin had sent him off with a kiss, no pressure to invite Arthur in. Arthur, for all his prattishness, is a gentleman, and Merlin is still surprised by his ability to listen and to care. He'd let Merlin ramble on and on without growing annoyed, simply watching him with a smile on his face. The few guys Merlin had dated in uni always hated his rambling, and none of them had even come close to truly knowing Merlin. 

Arthur is the first person Merlin has told about Freya. In a way, he's the one person in the world who knows Merlin best, even if he doesn't know it. He knows things about Merlin he's never told anyone else, and things about Emrys not many people know. He just doesn't know they're the same person.

He wishes Arthur knew, sometimes. He wants to tell Arthur everything, wants to show him his magic and how beautiful it can be. But Arthur, as he's reminded him multiple times, wants to arrest Emrys, despite how he's softened towards him, and Merlin's secret is too dangerous. What he told Arthur was true. Out of the five people in his life who knew about his magic, Will and Freya are dead, leaving his mother, Gaius, and Lance. Only three people in the world who know his secret, and he won't risk anyone else. Especially not Arthur.

 _But is it worth it?_ he wonders. Is his relationship with Arthur worth the risks and the hardships? Telling Arthur seems impossible, but so does leaving him. It's a dilemma with no solution, a paradox that feels like it's crushing him. The only solution, a horrible, very bad, no good solution that Merlin immediately latches onto, is to keep lying to Arthur. Everything's fine right now, he tells himself. He doesn't need to worry about this just yet. It's a problem for future Merlin. 

He has a feeling future Merlin is going to hate him very much.

* * *

He's sitting on the hood of the police cruiser next to Lance, the smell of coffee permeating the air from the cup in Lance's hands. 

"Thanks," Lance says, lifting the cup. "Do I want to know how you got it?"

Merlin grins under the mask. "I walked right up and bought it. Caused quite a stir, but no one tried to turn me in and three people asked me for a selfie, so I think it was a success."

Lance shakes his head. "I think it's reckless, but I'm glad the public is behind you. How are magic relations?"

"Okay. I think magic users are still afraid to come out into the open, but a few have. And while there's a few people who are totally against magic, most people just think it's cool that superpowers are real."

Lance smiles. "That's great. You're starting to become quite a celebrity, you know that?"

"I know." Merlin wrinkles his nose. "It's strange. I started doing this because I wanted to get justice for my father and help people, not become some figurehead for the magical community."

"With great power comes great responsibility," Lance intones seriously before cracking up.

Merlin bursts out laughing, shoving Lance's shoulder. "Shut up."

"No, seriously." Lance sobers. "You're the face of magic now, and our resident superhero. What you do shapes the future of this city. It might not be the job you set out to do, but it's important."

Merlin nods. "I know. And I'm trying. I visited a few magic users, reassured them that they're going to be okay, asked them for their support, all that. Nimueh's movement won't get any traction, and there will be less people out for Uther's blood. I'm trying to spread the word that he's not responsible for the murders among magical and non-magical people, because this is insane. Arthur has to keep hiding out at the precinct because every time he goes out he's mobbed by reporters and angry citizens."

"It's not fair," Lance agrees. "I know Arthur is just trying to help."

"Yeah." Merlin sighs. "He really cares about magical people, you know. He's nothing like his father."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"It is, yeah, of course. Just...he's trying so hard, Lance, and I'm still lying to him."

"You don't have a choice."

"I know. But I hate it."

Lance wraps a comforting arm around him and Merlin leans into it, resting his head on Lance's shoulder. 

"You're a great friend, you know that?" he murmurs. "I owe you so much."

"No," Lance replies softly. "You don't owe me anything."

* * *

He's walking down a back-alley when a presence at the edge of his senses makes him pause, magic filling his fingertips. In one motion he whirls, grabbing the shadowy figure with his magic and pinning them against the wall.

He immediately drops his hand, blinking in surprise.  _"Morgana?"_

Morgana smiles a predatory smile, unfazed by the fact that he'd just thrown her against a wall. "I see you know who I am. Good." She brings her camera up to her face and snaps a photo of him before he can do more than blink, stupefied.

He regains his composure, straightening up and snatching the camera from her hands with a burst of magic. He flicks through the camera roll, deleting the most recent and seeing a bunch of other photos of him walking, and more of him and...

Oh no. Lance. He clicks through in dismay, seeing photo after photo of him and Lance sitting on the hood of the police car, chatting. Merlin's identity is safe, but Lance's assuredly is not, and the way they're sitting together makes it quite clear that they know each other well. He'd thought no one was around, and has no idea how Morgana managed to avoid his detection.

"You can delete them," Morgana says, making him look up, "but I still know who's in that picture. I already looked him up."

"What do you want?" Merlin grits out.

Morgana smiles sweetly, sauntering closer until she's inches from him. "I want the first ever exclusive with you."

Merlin snorts. "Not going to happen."

Morgana plucks the camera out of his hand. "Well, then I suppose I'll have to plaster sweet Constable DuLac on the front page..."

"Stop." Merlin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose over the fabric of his mask as he tries to think.

 _Not Lance._ He can't let this happen to Lance, not after everything he's done for him. He can't let Lance suffer for his sins. He thinks about what Morgana is after, her motivations.

"Okay, I have a counteroffer," he says, dropping his hand. "No exclusive, but I get you the first scoop and inside information on all my saves. In return, you lose these pictures, you _never_ tell anyone about Lance, and you stop trying to figure out who I am."

Morgana tilts her head to the side, seeming to consider. "Alright," she finally says. "I accept." She holds out a hand.

Merlin takes it with a gloved hand, surprised by the strength of her grip. A curious tingle runs up his arm and he gasps, yanking his hand away and seeing gold fade from Morgana's eyes.

"You have magic." She'd wanted him to know, obviously.

Morgana tilts her chin up. "Yes."

"Does anyone know?"

"Only my sister, Morgause. She's the one who taught me to control it. I'm a Seer."

"You see the future in your dreams?" Merlin breathes. Seers are rare, and what they See often comes true. It's something to do with time being non-linear, and Seers possessing the ability to see through the wrinkles and grasp possible futures.

Morgana nods. "I thought I was cursed, or crazy, until Morgause told me about magic. My nightmares were so vivid, so real. I almost failed an entire year of high school because of them."

"I'm sorry." He is, especially because Morgana has Uther for a father. "That's going to change, now that magic is in the open."

"I know." Morgana's face softens. "That's thanks to you. I was wondering..." She looks uncharacteristically uncertain. "The things you can do are amazing, and you have such control. Would you..teach me some of it?"

Merlin blinks in surprise. "Oh. Yes, of course. I'd love to."

Morgana smiles, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Meet me in my office anytime after six. I presume you know where it is?"

"Top floor of the biggest building in the city?" Merlin guesses. The  _Camelot Times_ building is hard to miss.

Morgana smirks. "See you around, Emrys." With that she turns and strides away, long hair swaying behind her.

Merlin shakes his head. He'll never understand Morgana completely, but he thinks he has a better idea.

* * *

Merlin leaves the muggers tied up and teleports to the top floor of  _The Camelot Times,_ finding the building mostly empty except for Morgana, typing away at her computer. Merlin steps forwards into the light and is rewarded by Morgana lifting her head, smiling when she sees him.

"Hello, Emrys." She stands, making her way towards him. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to uphold our deal."

Merlin squares his stance. "Here I am."

"Yes, indeed. Come, take a seat." Morgana beckons him over to her couch. "So, what daring feat did you do tonight?"

Merlin sighs and tells her the details of everything he's done so far tonight, including putting out a small fire, teleporting a girl with a broken ankle to the hospital, and stopping two muggers; Morgana types furiously on her tablet and only interrupts to ask him questions like what exactly he'd done or how he'd felt, which Merlin thinks is irrelevant.

"Well," she says when he finishes, "it's not exactly the most compelling night, but that's good. It shows the public that you're more than this powerful, scary figure, that you're not above small acts of kindness. You're a normal person."

Merlin fidgets uncomfortably. "Sure." He looks down at this hands. "Scary?"

"Hmm?"

"You said I'm scary. Is that really what people think of me?"

Morgana's lack of response makes him look up, finding her staring at him with a strange expression on her face. "Surely you must know that...the things you can do scare people," she says carefully. "Whenever you throw people against walls, or crush their guns in midair, you're showing that you have the power to do great harm. You could kill people."

"I know. But I wouldn't."

"I know. But it's the same as someone holding a loaded gun. It makes people afraid, even if they're pretty sure the person won't shoot them."

"So what, people are afraid one day I'll snap and kill them all?" Merlin asks bitterly.

"I won't lie to you," Morgana says simply. "Besides the bank where you saved that man's life, all the magic they've seen you do is destructive and powerful. Of course they're afraid."

Merlin feels that familiar twisting in his gut, the anger and shame that comes from a lifetime of thinking he's a monster, of knowing the fear and hatred with which people will regard him. He'd thought he was doing good, showing people that magic was good, but he'd only made them more afraid.

"I don't want them to be afraid of me," he admits quietly. "But I don't know how to do that."

Morgana looks thoughtful. She scoots forward on the couch, clasping her hands. "Show me some magic. Something...pretty, and harmless."

Merlin cups his hands together, thinking. Finally he sends a surge of magic into his palm, calling on the elements. He opens his hands to see a flame dancing on his palm. Pulling on it, he makes it break apart into sparks, sending them upwards through the air to form a glittering outline of the dragon that tops the building. It hangs there in the air a moment before dissipating, sparks winking out into nothingness.

He looks to see Morgana smiling, eyes alight with awe. "That," she says. "Is how you do it." She gets up and grabs her camera from her desk. "Now, teleport us somewhere empty and nondescript. You, Emrys, are getting your first photoshoot."

* * *

Merlin smiles down at the paper as he sips his coffee, thinking that his arrangement with Morgana might turn out to be a good thing after all. In the photograph sitting on the first page Emrys stands on a rooftop, lit against the expanse of the night sky by the fiery dragon held in one hand and moonlight filtering down to play against the shadows of his mask. Even in black and white the photo takes on an ethereal quality, and Merlin can see himself clearly as the protector of the city, a benevolent guardian armed with magic. 

Morgana's words paint an even better picture, expanding on each of his small saves the night before and humanizing him, showing the simplicity and kindness of his actions.  _Always willing to lend a helping hand,_ the article reads.  _From the smallest acts of kindness to the greatest acts of heroism, this city can count on Emrys to be there in the blink of an eye._

The photo from the front page is also up on the online newspaper blog in full color, where hundreds of people have already read and shared the article. Merlin had scrolled through the comments to find mostly positive feedback and exclamations of awe and delight over his fire dragon. Many people are also speculating where Morgana had gotten the photo and the details of the saves from, though thankfully Merlin had made Morgana credit the photo to "anonymous" and write that her information was from an anonymous source. 

Arthur walks into the break room, stooping to kiss Merlin on the cheek before grabbing the cup of coffee Merlin hands him. He reads over Merlin's shoulder before pulling away and slumping into his own seat, an expression of deep thought on his face. 

"That photo is staged," he says. "Emrys let someone photograph him, and told someone those details, and then that person sold them to Morgana. If we can find out who, we can find Emrys."

"How do you know Emrys didn't send that information anonymously to Morgana?" Merlin questions.

"But then how would he have taken that photo of himself?" Arthur counters. "No, someone is working with Emrys, I know it."

Merlin shrugs. He knows that the person is actually Morgana, but if Arthur thinks there's someone else it's even better for him. It'll send Arthur off on a wild goose chase, and both Merlin and Morgana's secrets will be safe.

Morgana's secret is another weight on his shoulders, another thing he's keeping from Arthur. How would Arthur react, he wonders, if he knew Morgana has magic?

How would he react if he knew  _Merlin_ has magic?

Merlin sighs, setting the paper down. "How are things with your father?"

"Better." Arthur scowls. "At least most people have stopped thinking he's a murderer."

"That's a good thing," Merlin urges. "See, I told you it would die down. It's only been a couple weeks."

"And no sign of Nimueh."

Merlin winces. "Maybe she's given up? Disappeared forever?"

"I doubt it," Arthur grumbles. "She's probably plotting her revenge as we speak. She could attack any day."

"Oh come on. Lighten up. Things are going well. Magic is out in the open, the city is settling down, Emrys is saving people." Merlin smiles. "It's a good day."

Arthur gives him a strange look. "Why are you Mr. Optimism right now? Usually you're doom and gloom."

Merlin shrugs. "Just... I'm happy. Is that a crime?"

Arthur sighs, getting up to wrap his arms around Merlin from behind and plant a kiss to his cheek. "Sorry. I'm glad you're happy." He rests his chin on Merlin's shoulder. "Tell you what, why don't you come over tonight? I'll cook dinner, and we can watch a movie."

"You're cooking?" Merlin asks dubiously.

"Yes. And you have to eat it, no matter how horrid it turns out."

Merlin laughs. "It's a date." He turns his head to kiss Arthur fully, relaxing into it until wolf-whistles break them apart as the rest of the men file in.

* * *

The credits roll in the background as Merlin drops to his knees in front of the couch, peering up at Arthur with a smirk. Arthur gazes back with an utterly wrecked expression, pupils blown wide and hair mussed from Merlin's fingers. Merlin reaches up and unbuckles Arthur's belt slowly, drawing it out as he pops open the button and slowly drags the zipper down. Arthur groans, lifting up his hips so Merlin can slide his pants off and shifting forwards to the edge of the couch. Merlin presses against the inside of Arthur's thighs, spreading them, before leaning forwards to take Arthur in his mouth. 

Arthur gasps, hips bucking up slightly and one hand tangling in Merlin's hair. He tugs, sending sparks of pleasure along Merlin's spine, and Merlin hums around him. It only takes a minute, Merlin's mouth around Arthur and one hand keeping his hips still, before Arthur is spilling down his throat, hand clenching in Merlin's hair almost painfully. 

Panting, Arthur drags Merlin up for a filthy kiss, one hand fumbling at Merlin's pants where he's straining against the fabric. He finally frees him from the constraint and wraps a hand around him, swallowing Merlin's moans and trailing kisses down his throat. He sucks a mark at the base, teeth scraping skin, and Merlin comes with a curse, slumping against Arthur.

When they've both regained muscle control Arthur tugs at Merlin's soiled shirt, trying to get him to take it off. Merlin grabs Arthur's wrist, panic shooting through him.

"What?" Arthur looks at him quizzically. 

"I, um-I-" Merlin stutters.

"I'm not suggesting anything, you should just really change your shirt," Arthur says, misinterpreting his hesitation. "I'll get you another one."

Merlin feels his face heat. "Could you, ah, not look?"

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "What, are you shy or something?"

"Arthur, please." Merlin squirms under his scrutiny.

"Alright, fine." Arthur frowns, wriggling out from under Merlin and disappearing into his bedroom. He emerges with on of his shirts, handing it to Merlin wordlessly and turning around. 

Merlin strips off his shirt, quickly replacing it with the new one and re-doing his jeans. 

"Merlin, you do realize I've seen your dick," Arthur drawls. "Why are you suddenly such a prude about me seeing your chest?"

"Just because you have a perfect body doesn't mean I do, you prat," Merlin snaps, balling up his ruined shirt.

Arthur turns around, eyes full of guilt. He reaches out for Merlin before aborting the movement. "I'm sorry. I didn't think. Listen, I don't care if you have three nipples, or something." Merlin snorts despite himself. "I'd want you anyway," Arthur says seriously. He takes a step closer, raising a hand to cup Merlin's face. "There's nothing you could show me that would make me like you any less."

It feels like a knife to the heart. Merlin pulls away, ashamed to find hot tears pricking his eyes.

"I wouldn't be too sure," he mutters.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur asks indignantly. 

Merlin shakes his head. "Nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. Talk to me, Merlin." Arthur takes a step closer. Merlin steps back.

"It's nothing," Merlin repeats. "Honestly. Forget I said anything."

Arthur takes another step forwards, then another, forcing Merlin to retreat. His back hits the wall and Arthur looms over him, hands planted on either side of his head.

"Tell me," Arthur demands. 

Merlin shakes his head mutely, feeling like a rabbit caught in a trap. There's no escape from Arthur's searching blue eyes, filled with anger and concern and something undefinable.

"Goddamn it, Merlin," Arthur growls. "Why can't you trust me?"

"I do."

"Stop lying," Arthur hisses, face inches away. "You think I don't notice how often you lie to me? And I say nothing, because I want you to tell me the truth of your own accord, but you never do. Just tell me why, Merlin. Please. I just want to know why you can't trust me."

"It's not you," Merlin blurts. "It's me."

Arthur scoffs. "Right." He goes to pull away but Merlin grabs his arm.

"Arthur. Please. For once, I'm telling the truth. You're perfect. You're honest and kind and true-hearted and I lo-I do trust you, Arthur, with my life. There's just things about me that I can't tell you right now, and it's something I have to work out for myself. I'm asking youto trust  _me._ "

Arthur studies him, forehead furrowed. "Will you ever tell me?" he asks softly.

Merlin swallows. "I don't know," he answers honestly. "I want to. Someday."

"But not now."

Merlin shakes his head. "I'm sorry. Can you-will you wait for me?"

Arthur exhales, hands coming up to cup Merlin's face as he rests his forehead against his. "God help me," he murmurs. "I'd wait an eternity for you." He pulls back, thumb caressing Merlin's cheekbone. "Stay over?"

Merlin's indecision must show on his face, because Arthur hastily corrects, "Just to sleep. Shirts on." He gives Merlin a small smile.

Merlin's resistance crumbles in the face of Arthur's willingness to meet him halfway, to trust him. "Yes," he breathes. "Yes."

* * *

Merlin wakes to a warm weight against his side, hot breath tickling his neck. One of Arthur's arms is slung over his stomach, a leg nudged between his, and Merlin carefully turns in his grip so they're face to face, watching the early morning sunlight streaming through the curtains turn Arthur's hair into spun gold. Arthur's face is lax in sleep, mouth parted slightly and strands of blonde hair falling messily over his forehead; he looks so peaceful and beautiful it makes Merlin's heart skip a beat.

He'd nearly said it last night, nearly said what he's always known but never admitted even to himself.

_I love you_

He does, he thinks. He has always loved Arthur, since the first time Arthur made him laugh when the weight of his grief seemed too heavy for him to bear; since the first time he saw Arthur, all golden hair and crooked smile, blue eyes sparkling with delight; since the first time he had looked underneath the insults and the coldness and found the real Arthur, soft and gentle and kind. 

He wonders if it is possible for Arthur to ever love him, despite the lies. Can you love someone you don't really know? Or do you love someone because you don't really know them at all? Maybe Arthur could love this Merlin, the one who trips over his own feet and rambles about science, but he doesn't know if Arthur could ever love Emrys.

Merlin doesn't have an answer. He's not sure he wants one. Instead he watches Arthur sleep, contenting himself with the steady rise and fall of his chest. Arthur is safe, and that's all that matters. Arthur will wait for him, will not push him until he's ready.

But when will he be ready? What if it's never?

More importantly, Merlin wonders, how long will Arthur wait?

* * *

"Okay, now focus. Make both of them light."

Morgana stares at the candles, eyes narrowed and fists clenched. The wicks start to melt, dripping to the floor, and part of the carpet catches fire. Merlin quickly douses it.

"Breathe," Merlin reminds her. "Don't try too hard. Let the magic flow through you instead of trying to bend it to your will."

Morgana takes a deep breath, relaxing. The candles sputter and then light as Morgana laughs happily, smile blinding.

"I did it!"

Merlin smiles under the mask. "Yes you did. See, I told you you could do it."

"Thank you. Morgause tried to help me, but my magic is always so out of control. I once started a fire in my room and nearly burned the house down. Uther still thinks it was an arson attempt."

"I understand." Merlin settles cross-legged on the floor next to Morgana. "When I was a child, my magic was completely out of control. I once made all the windows in my house shatter because I was angry. Things I wanted would just fly towards me, and basically anything I was thinking, it would try to do. My...mentor taught me the candle trick as a way to control it, and the most important thing I learned is not to try and control it through force. It's about redirection. If you're always fighting your magic, it will only make it worse. You have to work with it."

Morgana nods. "That makes sense." She extinguishes the candles with a flick of her hand. "It must have been hard for you, growing up like that. I didn't discover my magic until I was fifteen."

"Yeah." Merlin shrugs. "I guess I didn't know any different. It was hard on my mother, though. She had to raise me by herself, and she didn't have magic of her own. She kept me inside most of the time, homeschooled me. It wasn't until I got older and could control my magic better that I could go outside."

"How old are you?" Morgana asks.

Merlin shoots her a sharp look, but she looks genuinely curious, and she's sworn not to look into him. "Mid-twenties," he hedges, still not wanting to give her any clues. She's Arthur's half-sister, and Merlin is dating Arthur, and he can just picture Morgana putting the pieces together between Emrys and Merlin.

"Did you grow up in Camelot?"

"No. I'm not telling you where, though."

"That's fair." Morgana tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Anyone special?"

Merlin shoots her another look. "Maybe. Why?"

Morgana shrugs. "Just curious. You're young, and nice, and presumably good-looking, though it's hard to tell. What about Constable DuLac? You two seemed pretty cozy."

"No. We're just...acquaintances, and I think you already know that he's dating someone."

Morgana smiles, not ashamed to be caught out. "Yes. Guinevere Leodegrance. Doesn't mean you two can't still be together."

"We're not. I am seeing someone, but it's not him."

Morgana looks like a cat that got the cream, and Merlin thinks this was her plan all along, to get him to spill. "I knew it. Come on, details."

"You know, for someone who promised to stop looking into me, it sounds remarkably like you're trying to figure out who I am."

Morgana waves a hand. "Even if I do figure it out, I won't tell anyone. So, guy or girl?"

Merlin sighs. "Guy."

"Does he know who you are? You know, that you're Emrys?"

"No."

"But he knows about your magic at least, right?"

Merlin looks down at his lap. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because...if I told him about my magic, it's a quick leap from that to the conclusion that I'm Emrys."

"Oh. Well, would that be so bad?"

Merlin looks up. "Yes, because it would put him in danger, and I can't-I can't lose him." His voice cracks beneath the distortion. 

Morgana sets a hand on his arm, looking sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

Merlin shakes his head, taking a deep breath. "There's no point in dwelling on it. It's the way it has to be."

Morgana is silent, but her nails dig into his arm, and a far-off look comes to her face. "You never know," she says softly. "The future is as yet unshaped."

* * *

Merlin scrolls through the newspaper site, smiling at the most recent pictures of him. Morgana had convinced him into a photoshoot during the day yesterday, Saturday, bringing him to a patch of woods just outside of the borders of Camelot. He still doesn't know where she got the butterfly, but the series of pictures starts with the butterfly in his palm and tracks it as it flies up, ending with Merlin's head craned up towards the sky and butterfly flapping above him. He has to admit, they're beautiful, and butterflies certainly make him seem less scary.

Over the last couple weeks Morgana has completely re-written his entire image, publishing photos of him doing everything from making light dance over his head with magic to bending down to pet stray cats. She'd even gotten a picture of him feeding them, something that had been a hit with his fans. In addition to the photos, the articles she writes about him are full of intimate details about the saves and praise for what he's doing, subtle phrases aimed at magic users helping to sway them to his side.

He has to admit that striking that deal was the best thing he's ever done. Magical people worship him, and he's already visited several kids just getting their magic, reassuring them and teaching them control; non-magical people are praising him as a hero and, for the most part, wholeheartedly accepting their magical neighbors; and Arthur has stopped threatening to arrest him and they've had several deep talks about magic and life.

More than that, Morgana has become a friend. Merlin often comes to her office late at night to do nothing but talk, sharing his magic with Morgana in a way he can't with anyone else. She understands the fear, the loneliness, the feeling of being ashamed of who and what you are. She also understands the beauty of magic, what it feels like to have this powerful force running through your veins. 

But she, like Merlin, still hasn't told Arthur. It plays on Merlin's mind, the combined weight of their secrets pressing down on him. Arthur, true to his word, is waiting, and though they keep up a steady stream of blowjobs and hand jobs they've gone no further. It's not just the scars. Merlin knows he cannot give himself over completely to Arthur unless there are no secrets between them, until Arthur knows him completely.

His phone rings, breaking him out of his thoughts. He sees Arthur's caller ID and smiles, picking up the phone and answering.

"Arthur."

"Are you watching?" Arthur's voice sounds tense and frayed.

"Watching what?"

"Turn on the tv."

Worried, Merlin jogs to the living room, turning on the tv. Instead of the news channel, a video feed comes up, and there, in the center of the screen, is Morgana, tied to a chair.

Merlin's heart stops.

"Oh my god," he chokes out.

"I'm at the precinct," Arthur says, voice still clipped like he's holding in emotion. "We're trying to trace the feed. Merlin-"

"I'll be there in five."

"No, don't come in. There's nothing you can do. You'll only be in the way, and I don't need the distraction."

Merlin feels faintly stung, but he knows Arthur doesn't mean it to be cruel. He's right. Right now, Arthur needs to focus on finding Morgana.

"Okay," he says. "I'll be here if you need me. And Arthur-you'll find her. I know you will."

"I hope you're right." Arthur hangs up, leaving Merlin staring at the tv screen. He turns up the volume, watching as a man paces around Morgana. 

Morgana looks relatively unharmed except for a cut on her temple, and she's bound to the chair with rope. The man circles around her like a hawk, and as he turns Merlin sees burn scars covering one side of his face, eyes flinty and cold beneath curly blonde hair.

"You know Emrys," the man says, and Merlin's breath catches. This is his fault. He'd put Morgana in danger.

Morgana glares. "No I don't."

The man leans in close to Morgana, making her pull away in disgust. "Yes you do. You see, I've been reading the papers for weeks. There's no way you could have gotten those details, those pictures, without having talked to Emrys."

"He just leaves me information, and I print it. I don't know who he is," Morgana spits. "And even if I did, I'd never tell you."

The man just chuckles. "That's all right. I don't need you to. Emrys will come to me."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because," the man strokes a hand over Morgana's hair, "I have you." He turns to the camera, teeth bared in a smile. "You have one hour, Emrys. I will send up a magical flare. If you don't come here in that time, I will kill her."

His eyes turn gold and Merlin extends his senses, finding the source of the magic.  _There._ He's already stripping off his clothes, running towards his closet. In under a minute he's dressed, taking a deep breath before focusing on the magical flare and pulling himself towards it.

He reappears in what seems to be a basement, Morgana tied to the chair in the center and the camera pointed towards her. The man turns at his appearance and smiles, doing a mockery of a bow.

"Emrys, what a pleasure."

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Merlin growls.

"My name is Edwin Muirden, and I want those without magic to suffer as I suffered."

Merlin takes a step closer. "That won't change anything. Let Morgana go. She has nothing to do with this."

Edwin points at Morgana, rage overtaking his features. "Her father is responsible for the suffering of sorcerers! She claims to support magic but supports you, who defends Pendragons!" He glares at Merlin. "You are a traitor to your kind. You save the non-magical people as if they will every truly accept you, as if you are anything more than a freak. They fear you, Emrys, and given the chance they would kill you for what you are."

"You're wrong."

"Am I?" Edwin shouts. "Was I wrong when my father held my face to the fire, trying to burn the magic out of me? Was I wrong when they locked me away, when they told me I was a monster?"

Merlin swallows. "I'm sorry that happened to you. I truly am. But blaming all non-magical people for the actions of a few makes you no better than those who hurt you." He risks a step closer. "I know what it feels like, to be hated and feared for something you can't control. I, too, have suffered at the hands of non-magical people. I have lost friends, family; I have been shot at, poisoned, beaten up, all for something I was born with. I understand how you feel better than anyone. But revenge is not the answer. We can find another way. I can help you."

He extends a hand towards Edwin.

For a moment Edwin stares at his hand, looking broken. His hand twitches at his side. Then his face hardens and he takes a step back, shaking his head. 

"No. You can't help me, Emrys," he hisses. "It's too late for me, and it's certainly too late for you."

Merlin barely registers the movement, and then the knife hurtles in his air towards him. He leans back, magic slowing the knife until it stops inches away from his face. The knife wavers in midair, caught between two opposing forces as Edwin tries to push it forwards and Merlin resists, surprised by the Edwin's power. He can feel the magic building in the air, Edwin losing control of it in his rage. 

Edwin screams, and the full force of his magic slams into Merlin. Merlin's magic lashes out, automatically protecting him.

There's a bang and a flash of light, and the knife goes spinning away from Merlin, sinking into Edwin's throat.

"No!" Merlin screams, but it's too late. Edwin slides to the floor, a look of shock still on his face as blood pours from the wound to pool around him, eyes glassy and still.

Merlin stares at the body, a strange ringing in his ears. He feels numb, as if everything is unreal. 

"Emrys."

He startles, turning to see Morgana staring at him. She tugs on her bonds.

"Get me out of here."

"Right," Merlin echoes faintly. He takes a stumbling step towards her and crouches down, undoing the knots by hand. He distantly wonders why he's not using magic. His hands shake and he tries to take deep breaths, telling himself to keep it together. When the last knot is free he stays crouched in front of Morgana, seeing the rub marks where the rope had cut in. 

"Are you alright?" he murmurs.

Morgana nods wordlessly, looking shaken. She rubs her wrists, wincing, and Merlin holds out a hand.

"Here. Let me."

Morgana puts her wrist into his palm and he sends out a tingle of magic, watching as the marks disappear. He repeats it for her other wrist before standing and touching Morgana's temple, healing the cut there. He offers his hand and she takes it, standing from the chair.

"Do you know where we are?" he asks, trying to figure out how to get the police here. He knows the camera is still recording, broadcasting out to every tv in Camelot.

Morgana shakes her head. "I was knocked out on the way here. He surprised me outside the office."

"Okay, wait here." Merlin teleports back to his flat, grabbing the burner phone he'd used to contact Morgana before teleporting back. He dials 999 and then sets it on the chair.

"The police can trace it here," he says. "Where do you want me to take you?"

"The precinct," Morgana replies. 

Merlin takes hold of Morgana's arm. There's pressure, and then they're standing in the middle of the police precinct, officers staring at them. Arthur rushes forwards and Morgana throws herself into his arms. He looks up, over Morgana's shoulder, and meets Merlin's eyes.

 _Thank you,_ he mouths, eyes glimmering with tears.

Merlin nods, and disappears.

* * *

 

He manages to strip off his clothes and get into the shower before it hits him. He slides down the wall until he's sitting, breaths loud and fast above the pounding of the water. Edwin's face fills his vision, eyes open and staring, blood pooling around him. He'd killed him. Merlin had killed him. He's a murderer.

The water droplets vibrate, pulsing in midair with the force of his magic. He hears the mirror crack, feels the building shudder around him. 

He's a murderer. He's a liar, and a murderer, and a monster. It's his fault Morgana had been taken, his fault Edwin is dead. Everyone around him gets hurt. Anyone who knows about his magic, anyone who knows him at all is in danger. He only brings death and destruction to their lives. 

He's been selfish. He was lonely, and so he allowed himself human connections, forgetting that he is not human, and he doesn't have that luxury. He should have learned by now. He cannot have friends, cannot love Arthur. He will always be alone.

 _I'm not a killer,_ he'd told Arthur. Now, he doesn't even have that.

Arthur will hate him. It is better that way.

* * *

 

He stands in the shadows of Morgana's office, watching her walk in and sink down onto the couch, pouring herself a drink.

"I know you're there," she says.

He steps forwards, into the light. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." Morgana takes a drink. "It's you I'm worried about. I thought you would visit sooner."

"I'm sorry. It's my fault this happened."

"What?" Morgana looks up. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm the one that basically blackmailed you into being friends with me. Which we are, by the way."

"I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Be friends with you. I can't see you again, Morgana."

Morgana pauses with her glass halfway to her lips. "What? Why in the world not?"

"You got hurt because of me, and I can't let that happen again."

"That's not your choice to make," Morgana counters hotly, setting the glass on the table.

"I'm sorry. It's for the best."

Morgana stands up, anger flashing across her face. "I think you're running because you're afraid," she bites out savagely.

"Maybe. It doesn't change the fact that I put you in danger."

"I  _chose_ to be in danger!" Morgana points a finger at him. "I came to you, I told you my secrets, I asked you for help, and now you're abandoning me because you don't think I'm worth the risk."

Merlin steps forwards. "Your  _life_ isn't worth the risk! Don't you get it? I'm trying to protect you!"

"No, you're just trying to protect yourself," Morgana snarls. "You know what I think? I think you're a coward, Emrys. You're afraid to let other people in because you think they'll reject you."

She takes another step forward until she's right in front of him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I heard you. With Edwin. You said you've suffered at the hands of non-magical people. I think you're afraid if you tell your boyfriend about your magic, he'll hate you."

Merlin flinches, the blow hitting home. "What about you?" he replies, hurt making him vicious. "Why don't you tell Arthur about your magic, huh? What are you so afraid of? That he'll tell Uther? That he won't want a _freak_ for a sister-"

The punch surprises him, making him stagger back and put a hand to his throbbing face. "Shut up," Morgana hisses. "You know  _nothing_ about me."

"And you know nothing about me!"

"Oh no, I know exactly who you are." Morgana meets his eyes cooly, mouth twisting into a cruel smirk. "A little boy playing dress-up, saving people because maybe then they'll love you, running away whenever anyone gets close because underneath it all, you hate yourself. You hate yourself for letting your friends die when you could have saved them, you hate yourself for lying to everyone around you, and most of all, you hate yourself because somewhere along the line, you started to believe that you really are the monster people say you are."

Silence follows her words. Merlin stares at Morgana, feeling tears prick his eyes, a gaping hole opening up where his heart should be. Morgana's expression falters, and her mouth opens.

"Emrys-"

Merlin disappears, falling to his knees on the floor of his flat as a sob wrenches its way from his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur's phone buzzes. He pulls it out, frowning at the text message from Merlin.

_Can I come over? We need to talk._

He hasn't seen Merlin since yesterday. Merlin had called in sick to work right after Morgana's kidnapping a few days ago, and when Arthur had gone over yesterday to deliver soup and check up on him he had certainly seemed worse for wear, with deep shadows under his eyes and a sickly hue, what looked like the remnants of a bruise on his cheek that he'd said was from hitting a doorframe. He'd started crying-over the soup, which seemed absurd-and then fallen asleep on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur had thrown a blanket over him and put the soup in the fridge with a sticky note reminder before leaving for work again. 

He really wishes Merlin hadn't been sick, because the last few days have been crazy. Edwin is dead, and Morgana is safe, but the incident weighs on Arthur's mind. It was clear that Morgana had somehow gotten involved with Emrys and it had put her in danger, and Arthur knows he needs to talk to her. Equally as concerning is the fact that Emrys had killed Edwin, and Arthur hasn't seen him since. He thought that Emrys would show up in his flat right after the incident, but there's been nothing but radio silence, even though Emrys has been seen around the city.

Arthur has killed three criminals in the line of duty, and each one still haunts him. He knows the guilt and horror that comes with taking a life, and he only hopes that Emrys can move past this. He takes a moment to question why he's so concerned about Emrys' well-being before pushing it from his mind.

He types out a reply to Merlin, feeling a twinge of anxiety. What does Merlin want to talk about?

_Of course,_ he sends.

Ten minutes later Merlin is knocking on his door, looking pale but better than before. Arthur greets him with a hug, nose pressed to Merlin's hair.

"I missed you," he murmurs. "You choose the worst times to get sick."

Merlin smiles weakly when he pulls back, looking decidedly unhappy. Arthur frowns.

"What's wrong?"

Merlin looks away from Arthur. "Why don't we sit down?"

There's a slow dread building in Arthur's gut, alarms going off, but he follows Merlin over to the couch and sits opposite him, waiting for him to speak first.

"Arthur-" Merlin starts. He takes a deep breath. "I can't keep doing this."

Panic shoots through Arthur, and he knows, suddenly, what Merlin is going to say but he has to hear it, has to make Merlin say the words. 

"What does that mean?" he asks stiffly, blood rushing in his ears.

Merlin's eyes swim with tears. "I can't see you anymore."

Arthur has a million reactions; anger and sorrow and hurt and confusion, but what comes out of his mouth is, "You didn't like the soup?"

Merlin blinks, looking momentarily wrong-footed. Arthur just stares into space, wondering why it feels like there's no air in the room.

"I-no, the-the soup was fine, Arthur, it was-" Merlin shakes his head. "That's not what this is about."

"What  _is_ it about?" Arthur asks angrily. "What did I do wrong?"

Merlin shakes his head, a single tear slipping down his cheek. "It's not you, it's-"

"I swear to God, if you say 'it's me,' I will tear your throat out," Arthur growls. "I deserve a better explanation than that, Merlin."

"I know," Merlin chokes out, "I know you do. You deserve so much better Arthur, and I'm sorry."

"Then what is it?" Arthur questions, voice trembling. "We were happy, weren't we? I know we were."

Merlin nods, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Yes," he whispers.

"I was waiting for you."

"I know." Merlin's voice breaks.

"Then why?" Arthur pleads, eyes burning. "Tell me how to fix this."

Merlin shakes his head. "You can't."

Anger takes root in his chest, mingling with hurt. "I gave you everything, Merlin, _everything_ , and...." The realization is sudden, making him cold. "It wasn't enough." He meets Merlin's eyes. "I'll never be enough for you, will I?"

"No, Arthur-"

But Arthur is already standing, turning his back to Merlin so he can't see the truth written on his face, the truth that Arthur was never enough and never will be. That he gave and gave and gave to Merlin and got nothing in return. That he  _loves_ Merlin, but Merlin will never love him.

All his life, he has never been enough. 

"I think you should leave," he says flatly.

"Arthur-"

"Go." Traitorous tears slip down his face, hurt overriding anger. His heart breaks, shattering into tiny shards.

He turns, but Merlin is gone. He hadn't even heard the door close. Arthur sinks down onto the couch, putting his head in his hands.

* * *

Work is torture. He avoids the break room, staying in his office and working late into the evening. He doesn't see Merlin, but his brain conjures up images of how fine Merlin must be without him, how he's probably laughing and talking with the others like nothing happened. He knows, logically, that it's probably not true, but the images plague him anyway.

He eats lunch alone, trying not to think about the empty chair across from him. When he finally goes home, his flat is dark and empty. Even Emrys, it seems, has abandoned him. 

The papers are curiously quiet, and Morgana publishes no more stories on Emrys though he continues to flit around the city like normal. Arthur finds himself answering a summons from Morgana for lunch, simultaneously dreading and looking forward to seeing her.

She looks tired when he steps into her office, dark circles under her eyes to match Arthur's. He feels guilty for not checking up on her sooner. Maybe she's not as okay after the kidnapping as he thought?

"Arthur," she greets him. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," he replies flatly, sinking into her comfortable couch and setting down the take-out box on the coffee table. Morgana takes a seat across from him, both of them picking at the food in silence. 

Arthur is the first to throw down the carton, giving up the pretense. 

"What were you thinking, Morgana? Meeting with Emrys?"

Morgana slams her carton down, mouth drawn into a scowl. "Don't try and lecture me, Arthur. I know you've been talking to Emrys as well."

"What-how did you-" 

"And you'll be happy to know that he's not speaking to me anymore," Morgana snaps. "Trying to 'protect me' or some bullshit. So there's no need to worry. It's over."

"What?" Arthur stares in surprise. "He's stopped talking to you as well?"

It's Morgana's turn to look surprised. "Wait, he stopped talking to you?"

Arthur holds up a hand. "You first. You said Emrys stopped talking to you because he wanted to protect you?"

"That was the gist of it, yes. Said he was putting me in danger, blah blah blah. Then I..." Morgana suddenly looks down. "I said some things I regret. I don't blame him for never wanting to speak to me again."

Arthur sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least you got an explanation, and he did the right thing. He just stopped coming to my flat, and I don't know why."

Morgana shrugs. "Probably for the same reason. Wanting to protect you and all."

"I don't need protecting."

"And you think I do?"

"It's different. This is my job, dealing with dangerous criminals. And look what happened to you because someone figured out you knew Emrys. How did that start, anyway?"

Morgana winces. "I blackmailed him into giving me inside information on his saves."

Arthur sits up straight, staring. "Morgana!"

"Relax." Morgana waves a hand. "That was just in the beginning. We became friends." She shrugs, eyes slightly misty. "And, well, he was a really good friend."

Arthur feels a stab of something that is definitely not jealousy. Maybe.

"I'm sorry," he says, because he truly is. "But I think he did the right thing. It's too dangerous for you to know him."

Morgana's nostrils flare in anger. "That's not for you to decide. It's my life."

"And I'd rather you keep it!"

Instead of shouting back, Morgana suddenly slumps. "That's what he said too. But Arthur, you don't understand. The reason I went to him in the first place, the reason we became such good friends, the reason I can't lose him..."

She takes a shuddering breath, looking more scared than Arthur has ever seen her in his life. "Arthur," she says. "I...I have magic."

For a moment Arthur simply stares, stunned, before the implication of her words catches up to him. "You have magic?" he repeats weakly.

She nods. "I didn't tell you because...I was scared. I didn't want you to hate me, or to look at me differently. Emrys has been teaching me how to control it better."

Arthur stares at Morgana, seeing her clearly for the first time, so many things slotting into place. "How long have you known?"

"Since I was fifteen. My nightmares, they're not just nightmares. They're visions of the future. And that fire, that was my magic manifesting. I didn't know how to control it." She searches his eyes warily, her own wet with tears. "Arthur, please say something."

Arthur stands up. He steps around the coffee table, sinking down on the couch next to Morgana, and wraps his arms around her.

Morgana melts into him, and Arthur can feel her body shudder with sobs, tears wetting his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I'm sorry you didn't think you could tell me."

Morgana clutches him tighter, and her nails dig into his back but Arthur doesn't move, feeling closer to Morgana than he has in years.

* * *

After they've pulled apart and talked, after Morgana has told him everything about her magic and Arthur has promised to always support her, after they've both dried their tears and sit side by side, closer than ever, Morgana turns to Arthur and asks, "So, I know why I'm a mess right now, but why are you?"

It comes rushing back to Arthur in a wave of hurt that makes him suck in a breath at the pain. "Merlin broke up with me," he admits.

"What! Why?"

"Wish I knew," Arthur sighs, running a hand over his face. "I tried so hard, Morgana, but I just...wasn't enough for him."

Morgana's nails pierce his arm. "That's bullshit. Merlin looks at you like you hang the moon."

"How would you know? You never see us."

"You remember that time we all had dinner at your house? Merlin spent the entire time staring at you with hearts in his eyes and smiling whenever you so much as looked at him, and he seemed so scared of me it was comical. Anyone could tell he was desperately in love with you."

"Then why did he break up with me?"

Morgana sets a hand on his arm. "I don't know, but don't you ever think it's your fault, Arthur. You may have the emotional range of a teaspoon most of the time, but you're a good man, and if you think that you're somehow not enough that's bullshit. Tell me what happened."

Arthur sighs, and everything comes spilling out; snippets of Merlin's tragic past, how he keeps secrets from Arthur, how he broke up with him.

"I don't understand," he finishes. "Everything seemed so fine, and then you got kidnapped and he got sick, and then all of a sudden he broke up with me. It doesn't make any sense."

Morgana frowns, a far-off look in her eyes. "Or does it..." she murmurs.

"What?"

Morgana seems to shake herself out of her daze. "Nothing. Just thinking out loud. Maybe...." She tilts her head. "Maybe my kidnapping scared him. You're even closer to danger and Emrys than I am, and maybe he got scared that he'd lose you. That's his hang-up, right? Losing people?"

Arthur nods grudgingly. "Yeah." Hope blooms in his chest. "That does make sense. But what am I supposed to do? I keep trying and trying, Morgana, and he just keeps pulling away."

Morgana pats his knee. "Sometimes, there's nothing you can do, Arthur. Don't break yourself trying to fix Merlin. This might be something he has to deal with on his own. And don't forget, he hurt you. You have a right to be angry at him."

"I'm not though, not really. I'm just...sad." Arthur swallows. "Sometimes I think that...maybe we just weren't meant to be. Even when we were together I felt like there was something missing, like a puzzle piece, but I don't know what it was, and without it we just never quite fit together."

Morgana smiles at him, eyes soft and sad. "Well, maybe one day you'll find that missing piece. No one can tell the future, not even me, but some things...well, let's just say it's destiny."

* * *

The call comes early in the morning, the constable's voice grave. Arthur is on the scene within the hour, ducking under the tape to see the body splayed on the ground. He knows as soon as he sees it who the killer is.  _Aredian._

It's an older man this time, curly blonde hair streaked with blood and blackened veins marring the pale skin. The chest is cut in the familiar y-incision, neat burn marks marching up the man's thigh. 

There's the thud of footsteps behind him and Arthur turns to see Merlin making his way through the scene, camera around his neck and kit in his hands. He falters when he sees Arthur, averting his eyes as he passes and crouching down next to the body. Arthur stands uncomfortably, staring at the side of Merlin's face as he begins his examination and forcing down the mixed feelings of hurt and longing. 

He clears his throat. "What've you got?"

"Time of death approximately six hours ago," Merlin replies without looking up, voice clipped and unemotional. "Same as the others. No evidence so far."

"Let me know if you find anything," Arthur says, keeping his voice similarly cool. He turns away, unable to stand a second more of the forced politeness, and goes to interview the couple who found the body. 

As the day progresses Arthur's frustration grows. He's forced to interact with Merlin because of the case, but it's awkward and formal and the other inspectors have taken to fleeing the room when both of them are in it at the same time. There's no evidence on the newest victim, Osgar, nothing to point to Aredian, and though Arthur digs into every aspect of Aredian's life he can without a warrant it turns up nothing. He can tell the magical community is even more on edge, fearing any one of them could be next, and they're as frustrated as Arthur with the police's lack of progress. They don't trust the police to keep them safe anymore, and Arthur is betting that soon they won't trust Emrys either. Emrys' carefully won peace and support will collapse like a house of cards, and Arthur doesn't want to know what happens after that.

He wants to warn Emrys, wants his  _help,_ because Arthur can admit when he's beat, but Emrys continues to evade him. He pops up all around the city, saving people and tying up criminals, but Arthur hasn't been able to catch him face to face since before Morgana was captured. It irks him, because he needs to talk to him, and if he's being honest with himself he misses their talks. He'd shared secrets with Emrys he hasn't told anyone else, and Emrys had told him things that Arthur would bet he hasn't told anyone else, either. Nothing that would identify him, not that Arthur really cares anymore, but things that reveal who he is as a person. Childhood memories, anecdotes, his fears and worries.

He had told Arthur that he hates people being afraid of him, and that he grew up thinking he was a monster. He told him what magic feels like, the power running through his veins, and the way he always has to be careful not to use it. The way it slips out of his control sometimes, and he's just afraid he'll accidentally hurt someone one day. He told Arthur that he's only ever been in love once, that he's from a small town, that he went to uni and has a good job, that sometimes he uses his magic to wash dishes when he's too tired to do them himself. 

All bits and pieces of Emrys, given to Arthur freely. And with each piece, he had drawn Arthur deeper and deeper, until Arthur had woken up one day and realized that he  _cares_ about Emrys, and that maybe, just maybe, he has feelings for him. There's the attraction, the way Arthur sometimes shamefully wanks to Emrys' golden eyes and envisions peeling off his outfit layer by layer, pinning Emrys to the mattress and making all that power submit to his control, but more than that there's a connection, a deep understanding that makes Arthur feel like he can see straight into Emrys' soul. And it's wrong, because he loves Merlin, and they were together, and Emrys is a vigilante and Arthur is the police, but now Merlin is gone and Emrys is gone and Arthur has never felt more torn in his life. 

So he throws himself into his work, avoiding Merlin's pained eyes that he feels on him whenever Merlin thinks he isn't looking and scanning every newspaper and website for some sign of where Emrys is, frustrated and confused and painfully, heartbreakingly alone.

* * *

He's drowning his sorrows at the bar one night when a girl slides into the seat next to him, flashing him a flirty smile. Arthur nods in friendly acknowledgement and turns back to his drink, not really in the mood for flirtation, but she shifts closer and peers up at him through dark blonde hair adorned with golden jewelry, and suddenly everything around him seems fuzzy, his senses trained on the girl. He gives her a real smile, gaze trained on crystalline blue eyes that for a moment seem to flash red. 

"Hello," she murmurs. "My name is Sophia. Would you like to buy me a drink?"

Arthur nods dazedly, turning to the bartender and ordering a drink. A distant part of him wonders why he's doing this but it's quickly silenced by the peaceful fog overtaking everything, a strange force pulling him towards Sophia. 

Sophia sips the drink he'd gotten her, running a finger around the edge of the glass, and Arthur is mesmerized, limbs feeling heavy and slack as though he's been drugged.

He frowns, something pricking at the back of his mind.

"Wait," he slurs. "I-"

"Shhh." Sophia puts her finger to his lips, running another over where his hand rests on the bar. The strange thought drifts away again, replaced by syrupy pleasure. Sophia smiles, running her finger down his chin. 

"Let's go outside," she purrs.

Arthur nods, pulling out a wad of bills and tossing them on the counter as he stumbles after Sophia, hand clutched in hers. The world blurs between one moment and the next and he finds himself climbing into a cab, Sophia whispering something in his ear, then he's stumbling across grass and there's water lapping at his ankles, moonlight reflecting off the surface of what he vaguely recognizes as the pond in the center of Avalon park.

Sophia leads him deeper, until the water comes to his chest, and then draws close. Her sweet expression drops and her eyes flash with anger, clarity suddenly bursting through the fog in Arthur's head.

"This is for my father," Sophia snarls, and Arthur finds himself falling backwards, water closing over his head. He struggles, but a force pushes him down, Sophia's hand visible above the water. He sinks down, down, darkness crowding his vision, lungs burning as he struggles one last time and then goes still.

There's hands on him, something warm sparking through his body and sending his nerve endings alight. Arthur coughs and sputters, turning his head to the side as he expels water. Moonlight floods his vision as he opens his eyes, staring upwards at a familiar figure. 

Golden eyes meet his, the fabric of his mask and hood drenched with water that drips slowly onto Arthur's chest where his hands are still resting.  

"Emrys," Arthur croaks. He coughs again. "What happened?"

"Someone tried to kill you. Again," Emrys replies. "Sophia Tirmor. Her magic can...influence people's minds, especially if they're vulnerable."

"Why was she trying to kill me?" 

"Her father was one of Aredian's victims. She blames your father."

"Of course." Arthur slumps against the bank, drawing another slightly less painful breath. "What happened to her?"

"I knocked her out." Merlin jerks his head somewhere Arthur can't see. "Tied her up over there. Should probably give her magic suppressant before she manages to escape."

Arthur nods weakly, still feeling like he ran a marathon.  _Or just drowned,_ his mind supplies. He thinks he has Emrys to thank for the fact that he's alive right now.

"Thank you," he rasps. "You saved my life, again."

"Yes, it is becoming quite a habit, isn't it?" Emrys' eyes are unreadable as he stares down at Arthur, but his voice sounds wry. Suddenly he raises a hand and strokes a light finger down Arthur's cheek, the leather of his glove damp and soft. 

"You need to stay safe," he says softly. "I may not always be there in time."

Arthur reaches up and catches his hand, stroking a thumb over the worn leather. 

"Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

He feels Emrys' fingers tighten around his. "I just want you to be safe. I can't put you in danger because of me."

"It's my job. I'm always in danger. If I recall, you seem to be the one saving my life."

"I nearly got Morgana killed."

"If you think that was your fault, you're stupider than you look." Arthur sighs. "Once Morgana sets her mind to something, that's it. She would have wound up getting involved no matter what. Besides, she can protect herself. She has magic."

Emrys' eyes widen. "She told you?"

"Yes. And she told me what you've been doing for her. You really should talk to her. She says that she said things she regrets, though she won't tell me what."

Emrys looks away. "She was right," he mutters.

"About what?"

Emrys shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."

"It does to me. You can't do this alone."

"Yes I can." Emrys pulls his hand away from Arthur. "I don't need anyone. I can't afford that luxury."

"What, being human? Having a life? You told me yourself, you're just a normal person."

"But I'm  _not."_ Emrys' eyes look anguished. "Don't you see? I've never been normal, or even human. There is no life for people like me."

Arthur sits up, fixing Emrys with a stern look. "That's bullshit. Just because shit happens, just because you lose someone, or you kill someone-" Emrys flinches and Arthur knows he's struck home-"doesn't mean you just give up. Life isn't easy. If you want something, you have to fightfor it. You can be this lone hero, saving people but never truly connecting to them, or you can risk it all and find something  _worth_ fighting for, something that gives you a reason to keep doing what you do. You can't save people and remain separate from them. It's when you stop trying to be human that you lose your humanity, and what kind of hero are you then?"

Arthur's breaths are loud in the ensuing silence, Emrys' stunned golden eyes staring back at him. Suddenly Emrys lurches forwards, and kisses Arthur through the thin fabric of his mask. It only lasts a moment and then Emrys pulls back, so close Arthur can count his inky black eyelashes.

"I'm sorry," Emrys whispers.

There's a tug and then Arthur is collapsing on the floor of the precinct, Sophia unconscious and bound next to him. Emrys is nowhere in sight.

* * *

After Sophia has been drugged and transferred and Arthur repeats his edited story of Emrys saving his life he finally makes his way back to his flat, stripping off clothes still smelling of pond water and stepping into the shower. The hot water soothes his aching muscles, sluicing down his skin in rivulets that draw his mind back to Emrys. 

Emrys had kissed him. He wonders what Emrys' lips taste like beneath the fabric and feels himself getting hard, mind replaying the moment over and over; the tingle of Emrys' magic through his body, the rough feel of his gloves over long-fingered hands, the expanse of pale skin surrounding golden eyes framed by long lashes. He works himself to completion imagining that gloved hand wrapped around him, Emrys' lips hot against his skin. 

It's too late to deny it: Arthur is falling for Emrys. And maybe, just maybe, Emrys is falling for him too.

* * *

Arthur wakes to a feeling like someone is taking a jackhammer to his skull. He moans, which has the unintended effect of drawing his attention to his mouth, which tastes like something crawled into it and died. Prying his eyes open results in blinding pain and nausea as sunlight streaming through the curtains assaults his eyes, making him stumble out of bed and into the bathroom to promptly empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet. 

Last night was a mistake, he thinks, though he can't remember most of it. Wary of drinking alone after Sophia and wanting to get his mind off of Emrys and Merlin, Arthur had invited all the DIs (and Gwaine) to come out with him last night. Apparently he'd gotten blackout drunk, and he's not sure how he got back here. The last thing he remembers is challenging Gwaine to a drinking contest which, on more sober reflection, was not a good idea.

When he's purged what feels like the entirety of his stomach he brushes his teeth and emerges to find Leon and Elyan slumped over cups of coffee at his table, Percy and Gwaine still sprawled sleeping in the living room. 

"Morning," he grunts, sliding into a chair.

"Morning," comes the mumbled answer.

Arthur picks up a piece of toast from the plate in the center of the table and nibbles on it, trying to ease his roiling stomach.

"Arthur," Leon says, breaking the silence, "Forgive me for asking, but are you alright?"

Arthur looks up in surprise. "Of course. Why?"

Elyan and Leon exchange looks. "Well," Leon ventures. "It's just, you just broke up with Merlin, and things haven't exactly seemed all right between you two. You've been working yourself to the bone, and you usually never drink. I-" He looks at Elyan-"We, want you to know we're here for you if you need us."

"Thank you, Leon." Arthur sighs, running a hand through his already messy hair. "I guess I just don't know what to do."

"About what?" Elyan asks.

"Merlin." He looks between them, deciding to trust them with a half-truth. "The thing is, I want Merlin back, but I also...I might have feelings for someone else as well."

"Oh." They both glance at each other, exchanging meaningful looks.

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Wait, why don't you look surprised?"

Elyan winces. "Well, you may have, er, let slip last night that you, how do I put it-"

"Want to fuck Emrys," Gwaine finishes, sauntering into the kitchen with Percy in tow. He slides into the seat next to Arthur, ruffling his hair. "Isn't that right, Princess?"

Arthur gapes, feeling his face heat up. "No, I-I definitely do not, you-the _audacity_ -I-and frankly, how do I know  _you_ don't want to sleep with Emrys-"

"Calm down," Gwaine says easily. "We don't care."

"I do," Leon mutters darkly.

Gwaine waves a hand. "Whatever. Most of us don't care. And some of us-" He points to himself-"are very interested. I mean, I get it. The all black, the glowy eyes, the sheer power..." Gwaine nods. "Yep, I'd fuck him."

"Gwaine!" they all chorus at once. Arthur groans, thunking his forehead on the table. 

"It's more than that, though, isn't it?" Percy says quietly, making Arthur look up. "You actually have feelings for Emrys."

Arthur puts his head in his hands, digging fingers into his scalp. "Maybe," he admits. "Look, I didn't tell anyone, but Emrys has been...coming to my flat for a while. We just talk, and he's, well, he's a good guy. He's kind, and somehow ridiculously noble, and brave, and also really sad, too, and-" Arthur coughs. "Well, he's also saved my life more times than I care to admit."

Leon purses his lips. "I don't like it. What if he's just been trying to win you over so you stop trying to arrest him? You said Sophia managed to control your mind, make you attracted to her, maybe he's doing the same thing?"

Arthur shakes his head. "That's not it. He actually stopped coming to see me the last couple weeks. I confronted him, after he saved me, and he said he was trying to protect me. That he'd put Morgana in danger and he couldn't do that to me. I told him that was bullshit, and..." His cheeks flame. "He kissed me. Then he disappeared. I haven't seen him since. There's no way he's manipulating me. I still threaten to arrest him pretty much every time we meet."

"Sounds like he likes you back," Elyan comments. 

"Maybe? I don't know." Arthur groans. "And the problem is, I don't actually know who he is, or what he looks like. But I feel like I know him, because of the things he's told me, the way he acts. And then there's Merlin, who I know who he is and what he looks like, but I don't feel like I know him at all because he won't tell me anything. I wish I could just..." Arthur mashes his hands together. "Make them into one person. Then everything would be easy."

There's a long moment of silence as the others digest this.

"I think it's a hard decision, but think about the fact that Merlin is a real person right in front of you, with a name and an identity that doesn't hinge on being a vigilante," Leon says. "Emrys is...no one knows. You may feel like you know him, but at the end of the day you really don't. Are you really going to date a vigilante? Settle down with him? Get married? It's exciting at first, with the mystery and the magic, but these things don't end well, Arthur. You'll either find out that Emrys isn't who you think he is, or that he is, but he's either in jail or dead."

Arthur knows logically that Leon is right, but his traitorous heart rebels. 

Percy claps a large hand on his shoulder. "Whatever you decide, we support you."

Elyan's hand lands on his other shoulder. "We would fight a thousand criminals with our bare hands for you, Arthur. You're never alone."

Arthur realizes that Elyan is right. He may not have Merlin or Emrys right now, but he has his friends, and this, at least, is simple. 

* * *

Days pass. Arthur keeps working and avoiding Merlin, and Emrys keeps avoiding him. Every time Arthur looks at Merlin it hurts, but the hurt is fading into an ache in the center of his chest. They exchange pleasantries, they work together on the case, but beyond that it's as if they're strangers. What hurts the most is losing Merlin's friendship. It's a hole Arthur isn't sure he can ever fill, not sure how to live in a world where Merlin doesn't call him a prat or laugh at his jokes, eyes crinkled at the corners; a world where Arthur eats alone, a world where turns to tell Merlin something before realizing he's not there. 

He misses him. He misses Merlin's ramblings about incomprehensible science, misses his terrible food choices and worse jokes, misses the easiness that came with their friendship. He thinks Merlin misses him too, judging by the tortured expression in his eyes whenever he looks at Arthur. Arthur has long since come to the conclusion that Merlin broke up with him because he was afraid, because he carries around the weight of Will and Freya's deaths like an anchor, but it doesn't change anything. Arthur cannot fix Merlin, cannot repair the brokenness in his soul with love alone. 

But Merlin obviously needs help. Arthur had talked to Gwen one day, expecting to hear that Merlin had at least had her for support after the breakup, only to find that Merlin had pushed Gwen away too. Gwen had broke down in tears, saying Merlin wouldn't talk to her at all and she was worried sick. Gwaine had said the same thing, albeit without the tears, and his devil-may-care had faded instantly into genuine concern for his friend. Whatever had made Merlin break up with him is also making him push everyone else away as well. 

Arthur catches Merlin at the end of the day, stepping into the empty lab and waiting for Merlin to notice him. 

"Hey," he says.

Merlin swallows, visibly nervous. "Hey." His fingers tap restlessly on the desk, monitor pulled up to the evidence collected from Osgar. "What's up?" he asks.

Arthur walks deeper into the room and pulls up a stool, sitting across from Merlin.

"I just wanted to see you. Make sure you're doing alright."

"Oh." Merlin bobs his head. "Um, thanks. I'm fine, so..."

"No you're not." Arthur fixes Merlin with a pointed look. "Whatever else, we've been friends for a while, Merlin. I know when you're not okay. Even Gwaine's worried about you. Now, you don't have to talk to me, but I wanted you to know that I'm still here for you. As are Gwen and Gwaine and many others. Someone recently told me that I'm not alone, and now I'm telling you."

He stands, moving to rest a hand on Merlin's shoulder. He squeezes, making Merlin look up. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Merlin nods. Arthur gives his shoulder a last squeeze and turns away, stopped by Merlin's soft voice.

"Arthur?"

He turns. Merlin is staring at him with those unfathomable blue eyes and Arthur has to fight the impulse to run to him, to take him in his arms and smooth away the lines of sorrow and pain on his face.

"I'm sorry," Merlin says.

Arthur swallows. "Me too." He exits the room, forcing down the emotion that threatens to choke him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Tumblr! Come find me at
> 
> [fancyhwrites.tumblr.com](fancyhwrites.tumblr.com) 
> 
> :)


	10. Chapter 10

Merlin lies flat on his back on the rooftop, staring up at the stars as cool air brushes his face, making him shiver slightly. Aithusa is a warm weight on his chest, the vibrations of her purrs sinking down into his bones. He strokes a hand over her fur absentmindedly, feeling small against the infinite vastness of space spread out above him, millions of galaxies spinning past without care for the problems of humanity. It's comforting, almost, knowing that he is so irrelevant, so minuscule in the grand scheme of things, just another cog in the wheel of life whose actions mean little in the cold expanse of the universe. 

If there is a God, if there are Gods at all, then he thinks they must be cruel and unhappy beings, separated from their creations; destined always to watch but never to  _be,_ never to truly belong among them. Silent protectors, sometimes silent villains, uncaring of the lives they watch over because they are meaningless to them. What is a human to a God? Something to be pitied? Or something to be envied, the ease with which they love and are loved in return? Maybe the Gods destroy what they cannot have, out of spite and jealousy and hatred.

He thinks of the ease with which he killed Edwin, the way he'd felt his life flicker out of existence as if it had never been there in the first place. Ephemeral, fragile, like the wing of a butterfly. Like a candle lit only to be snuffed out.

He raises his hand, making sparks trail through the air. Aithusa lifts her head, blinking sleepily, and follows the trail with her eyes, settling down again as the sparks drift away to nothingness. Merlin drops his hand to her fur again, feeling the life beneath his palm.

It would be so easy. A small spark of magic, and the flutter of her heartbeat would stop. The life would fade from her eyes, her body would grow cold, and eventually she would return to the earth. A cycle of death and rebirth, continuing for eternity, devouring everything in its path. Everything, eventually, will die. Everyone will die. Does it make life less meaningful, or more, the fact of their fleeting existence?

Merlin is not a God, but he thinks he understands what it's like, to hold life in his hand, to have the ability to extinguish it with a snap of his fingers, to watch the world around him live and die and remain separate, forever alone. What is he to a God? An imitation, a shadow of their existence? A mockery of the divine?

The stars offer no answer. They are but distant forms, light reaching through space from billions of miles away. He wonders how many are already dead, their light extinguished but still present, reaching the Earth far too late for any goodbyes. Burning brightly, and then gone.

Is there light after death? Do humans' souls still pierce the blackness far after they are gone, spreading light among the heavens? Perhaps they do. Perhaps they are all stars, shining just beyond reach. Maybe as he looks up into the night sky, they are there, looking down on him. 

He wonders what they would think, to see him now. Would his father be proud, or disappointed in the man he's become? Would Will tell him off, tell him to pack up and go home, because this isn't his fight? Would Freya weep to hear of the things he's done?

There is no answer. The stars remain silent, tiny pinpricks of light that fade as the sky lightens, streaks of color painting the horizon. Merlin lays on the roof and watches as the sun rises, glinting off buildings and bathing the city in a rosy glow. A bird sings, calling to its mate. The city wakes from its slumber, the air filling with sound as people rise, kissing their loved ones good morning and readying for the day ahead, unaware of their fragile existence. Unaware that somewhere on a rooftop, their guardian lies, silent and alone.

Merlin raises to his feet, clutching Aithusa to his chest. Aithusa slumbers on.

* * *

Gaius sips his tea, regarding Merlin with a raised eyebrow over the rim of his cup. Merlin fidgets uncomfortably, looking away and picking at a thread in the cuff of his sleeve, hunching deeper into the security of his couch cushions.  

"Are you sleeping?" Gaius asks.

"Yes," Merlin lies.

Gaius' eyebrow creeps further up his forehead. "And the truth, before I lose my temper?"

Merlin sighs. "No, I'm not sleeping. Happy?"

Gaius ignores him. "Merlin, why do you think I asked to meet with you?"

"I don't know," Merlin mumbles, shrugging. "To lecture me, like you always do?"

"My boy, I hardly think this is a lecture. I'm worried about you. I haven't seen hide nor hair of you in weeks, and look what's happened!" Gaius sets down his tea and leans forwards. "You're not coping."

"I'm fine."

"You killed a man, Merlin. That changes people."

"I know." Merlin looks down at his hands. "What do you want me to say?"

"That this isn't Albion all over again."

Merlin's head snaps up. "It's not."

Gaius' eyebrow lifts.

"It's  _not,"_ Merlin snaps. "I'm using my magic, letting it out. It's fine."

"You said that then, and ended up destroying an entire building."

Merlin sighs, running a hand through his hair. "This isn't then, Gaius. I learned my lesson. It's under control. I swear."

Gaius searches his eyes and nods. "I believe you. But Merlin, you can't keep going like this. I know you've been pushing your friends away, that you broke up with Arthur. You're punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault."

"Not my fault?" Merlin looks at Gaius incredulously. "I killed him, and put Morgana in danger!"

"I saw what happened. Edwin tried to kill you, the magic rebounded. You never meant to kill him."

"Maybe. Doesn't change the fact that I did."

"He would have killed you, and Morgana, and who knows how many other people," Gaius says calmly. "I know you wanted to help him, but some people can't be helped. What's done is done. Punishing yourself for what happened won't change anything."

"I know." Merlin clenches and unclenches his hands, staring at them. "It was just...so easy, Gaius. I could kill someone with a snap of my fingers. Like  _that."_ He snaps his fingers for emphasis. "How am I supposed to live with that? Knowing the power I have, the things I can do? I could destroy the entire city without lifting a finger. Its like I'm a-a bomb, a ticking time bomb, and I'm just hoping I don't go off again."

"But you're not a bomb," Gaius says not unkindly. "You're a person, and a good one. If there's anyone I trust with this much power, it's you, Merlin." He reaches out to clasp Merlin's trembling hands, squeezing gently. "The only person who ever doubts you is  _you."_

* * *

It's a Saturday and Merlin is curled up with Aithusa on the couch, watching tv in sweatpants and a stained Albion University t-shirt, a blanket tucked around his shoulders. The newscasters are still talking about Emrys, replaying the clip of Morgana's capture over and over.  _Hero,_ some say.  _Dangerous,_ others whisper. He'd killed a man on live television. They talk about Morgana, questioning whether she knows him and the extent of their relationship, why she hasn't written about him since. One reporter suggests that he and Morgana are secret lovers, which makes Merlin snort. It's the only humor he can find in the entire thing.

The knock on the door startles him, making Aithusa dig her claws into his leg painfully before jumping down from his lap. 

There's another knock.

Merlin groans, turning off the tv before heaving himself off the couch and shuffling over to the door. He opens the door a crack, blinking in surprise.

"Hello." Morgana smiles as Merlin stares at her in stupefaction, struggling to form a coherent thought. "We're going to lunch."

"We are?" Merlin says dumbly.

"Yes." Morgana looks him up and down. "Get dressed." She shoves past him without waiting for an invitation, looking around his flat with avid curiosity. When Merlin still hasn't moved she sighs, spinning to face him. 

"Come on, I don't have all day."

"Right." Merlin shuts the door and moves blindly towards the bedroom, pulling on the first decent clothes he can find as his mind whirls for explanations as for why Morgana is in his flat. When he emerges he finds Morgana cooing over a purring Aithusa in her arms, an expression on her face of pure delight. 

"She's a sweetheart," she says. "What's her name?"

"Aithusa." He cracks a smile, moving forwards to scratch behind Aithusa's ear. "I found her in a dumpster."

"Oh, poor thing." Morgana frowns down at Aithusa before giving her one last pet and setting her gently on the floor. "Well, shall we?"

He nods warily and follows Morgana out of the flat and down to her car, getting in with only a moderate amount of trepidation. She drives them to a small cafe and claims the back table, both of them ordering sandwiches and coffee. 

"So," Merlin says as they wait, "Um, not to be rude, but, why..."

"Ah." Morgana surveys him with an unreadable expression. "I wanted to ask you why you broke my brother's heart."

"Oh." Merlin swallows guiltily. "I...I guess I got scared."

"Of what?" 

"Hurting him?" Merlin shrugs, twisting his fingers together nervously. "Losing him. But I guess I managed both pretty well already." 

Morgana gives him a sympathetic look. "Yes, that you did."

Merlin winces. "I know he deserves better and...that's part of it. I'm not..." He shakes his head. "He deserves better than me."

Morgana tilts her head to the side in a familiar motion, and it's strange, talking to Morgana like mere acquaintances when he knows some of her deepest secrets and she his. The way she looks at him is different, softer and almost sad, as if she's seen into his soul and read the heartbreak there. He doesn't know what he's done to earn the understanding in her eyes.

Their food arrives and they eat in silence, both lost in thought. Morgana is sipping her coffee when she asks, "Do you regret it? Breaking up with him?"

Merlin swallows the last bite of his sandwich, brushing crumbs off his hands. "Yes? I don't know." He bites his lip. "There's...it's complicated."

"I'm sure," Morgana murmurs. Louder, she says, "It doesn't have to be. Just tell him."

Merlin chokes on his coffee. "Tell him what?"

"Whatever it is that makes it complicated," Morgana responds smoothly. 

Merlin shakes his head, looking down. "It's not that simple."

"Maybe. Maybe not. You'll never know if you don't take a chance." She leans closer over the table. "For what it's worth, I think it's worth the risk." Her eyes sparkle mysteriously and she pulls back again, taking a delicate sip of coffee. "Think about it."

Merlin narrows his eyes. "Why are you so keen on me getting back together with Arthur?"

Morgana shrugs, flicking her hair off her shoulder. "I think you're good for him. And I think he's good for you."

"How do you know? You don't know me." It comes off more bitter than he intends, but Morgana remains unfazed.

"I know you better than you think," she replies, mouth curving in a small smile. She taps the side of her nose. "Trust me. You and Arthur...you have a future together."

Merlin wonders if she's Seen something, if that's why she seems to know more than she's letting on. He wonders, with a twinge of anxiety, just  _what_ she's Seen.

"Heavens, Merlin, don't look so terrified." Morgana drains the last of her coffee and sets the cup down. "Come on, I'll drive you back."

Bemused, Merlin follows her lead, piling back into her sleek car and letting her take him back to his flat. As he goes to get out she grabs his arm, a tingle running up it reminiscent of the first time he'd shaken her hand as Emrys. He freezes, but Morgana doesn't seem to have noticed.

"If you hurt him, I will hurt you," she warns.

Merlin nods rapidly, feeling Morgana's nails cut into his arm like daggers. Then she releases him with a terrifying smile and he all but falls out of the car, shutting the door. Morgana rolls down the window and smirks, putting the car into drive.

"See you around."

The car peels away from the curb with a squeal of tires, leaving Merlin flustered and confused and slightly terrified.

* * *

He appears in Morgana's office later that night, surprised when she seems to have been expecting him. She pats the couch beside her and he cautiously perches on it, twisting his fingers nervously in his lap. Morgana tracks the motion, making him still, and smiles.

"I'm sorry," she says, sobering. "Last time you were here I said some things I regret. I was hurt, and I lashed out at you. I didn't mean it."

"You were right," Merlin replies quietly. "And I'm sorry for abandoning you. I was scared, and I thought I was protecting you, but I was really protecting myself." He holds out a hand. "Truce?"

Instead of taking his hand Morgana leans forward and wraps her arms around him, her hair brushing Merlin's face. Startled, he returns the hug after a moment, relaxing into the feeling of human contact he's sorely missed. 

Morgana finally pulls back, cupping his face in her hands and searching his eyes.

"What was that for?" he murmurs. "And why are you looking at me like that?"

Morgana shakes her head and drops her hands, a small smile playing around her mouth. "Nothing," she says. "I'm just happy." She's looking at him with that same soft, open gaze from before, as if she's finally figured something out. "Show me some magic?" she whispers.

So Merlin does.

* * *

He goes into work feeling conflicted, bolstered by the healing of his friendship with Morgana but still unsure about his role in others' lives. Morgana may be a force of nature, able to take care of herself, but not everyone else is. He thinks of what would happen if Gwen was taken, or Arthur, and finds the fear for their lives overshadowing reason. He knows Gwen is worried about him, stung by his repeated attempts to push her away, and Gwaine dogs his footsteps with an expression on his face that promises more zip-ties in Merlin's future.

At least things have settled slightly between him and Arthur. Slowly but surely, their friendship rekindles, albeit more distant and professional than before. Merlin cannot be close, but he cannot stay away either. He settles in between, just out of reach. 

He stops making such a concerted effort to push Gwen away, and is rewarded by the return of her sunny smiles and the dwindling of Lance's pointed comments during his shift. Gwaine stops shadowing his every move, and the other inspectors no longer flee the room when he and Arthur are together. Merlin feels like his heart is slowly healing, one piece at a time.

* * *

It's another night after a woman he'd saved had flinched away from him in terror when Merlin feels drawn to Arthur's flat, drowning in the weight of his loneliness and grief and self-loathing. Arthur isn't home yet, and Merlin steals the whisky from his shelf, drinking straight from the bottle. Part of him whispers that this is a terrible idea, but he's too far gone to care.

When Arthur arrives Merlin is sitting on the couch, mask pulled up again and whisky bottle sitting nearly gone on the table. The world is fuzzy around the edges but the hole in his chest still aches, raw around the edges and only amplified by the alcohol coursing through his system. Arthur pulls up short when he sees him, an expression of surprise and confusion on his face.

"Emrys?"

Merlin doesn't respond, leaning back against the cushions and staring up at the ceiling. Arthur draws closer, eventually sinking down a few feet away and glancing at the whisky bottle with a frown.

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe." Merlin rolls towards Arthur, throwing a knee over him in one swift movement and straddling his lap. Arthur sucks in a breath, eyes going wide in the dim light. Merlin traces a gloved finger down his cheek, feeling Arthur shiver, before Arthur grabs his wrist and his face hardens.

"Emrys," he says firmly. "Something's wrong. Tell me."

Arthur's firm grip on his wrist sparks something pleased in Merlin.

"You're not scared of me," he murmurs. 

"No," Arthur replies, trying to search his shadowed eyes. "I'm not."

"You should be. Everyone else is."

"Is that what this is about?" Arthur's grip on his wrist slackens. "They don't know you."

"Neither do you." Merlin leans closer, face inches from Arthur's. "I killed someone," he whispers. "Like  _that."_ He snaps his fingers.

Arthur's expression softens in understanding and pity. "You didn't have a choice."

Merlin ignores him, alcohol loosening his tongue, spilling his secrets like grains of sand. "I blew up a building."

Arthur frowns. "What?"

"In uni. I tried to stop using my magic." He knows he shouldn't be saying this, knows the reason he hasn't told Arthur is because it's too easy to put the pieces together, to find the incident, the university, to find  _Merlin,_ but now that he's started he can't stop. "It built and built, and it  _hurt,_ but I shoved it down, until one day I couldn't anymore. It leveled a building. Gas leak, they said." He laughs bitterly. "Morgana was right. I hate myself. I'm dangerous."

"Yes, you are," Arthur says. Merlin goes to pull off his lap but Arthur grabs his other wrist in a crushing grip, holding him fast. "You are dangerous," Arthur continues, "but you're more than that. You're a good man. Your power doesn't change that."

"I'm not a good man," Merlin argues. "I'm not. I'm a-a liar, and a murderer, and-"

" _Human,"_ Arthur interrupts. "You're human, and we all make mistakes."

"I could kill you," Merlin breathes, almost desperately. 

"But you won't."

"Try me," Merlin snarls, abruptly incensed by Arthur's lack of self-preservation. He tries to pull his wrists away but Arthur holds fast. "Let me go."

"Make me."

Merlin growls, tugging at his wrists harder. Suddenly his back hits the couch and his wrists are being pinned on either side of his head, Arthur's weight pressing him down. 

"Come on, then," Arthur goads. "If you're so powerful, make me let go."

Merlin struggles but Arthur's grip only tightens and his body covers Merlin's, a suffocating weight. Merlin slumps, feeling all his muscles go lax as he submits to Arthur's hold, something warm and satisfied in his core as his magic settles. He's breathing hard, chest brushing Arthur's with every inhale, and his blinks grow longer as syrupy pleasure spreads through his limbs. He's distantly aware that he's rock hard, Arthur's hips pressing down into him.

"That's better," Arthur murmurs, and Merlin blinks up at him, Arthur's soft expression melting his defenses. He feels safe, the storm inside him quieted and contained by Arthur's will alone. 

"Now you listen to me," Arthur says lowly, voice sending shivers up Merlin's spine. "You're going to pull yourself together and stop blaming yourself for things you can't change. This city needs you, whether they know it or not. Understood?"

Merlin nods. Arthur's grip tightens.

"Answer me. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he chokes out, feeling arousal shoot through him to pool in his gut.

Arthur releases him abruptly, weight lifting off Merlin as he stands, back turned to him.

"You're drunk," he says, voice unreadable. "Go home."

Merlin feels dizzy, yearning for Arthur's touch again and left reeling by the abrupt dismissal, a small pang of hurt making him frown drunkenly. With a last longing look at the stiff line of Arthur's back he closes his eyes and finds himself in his flat. He doesn't bother stripping off his clothes before crawling into bed, curling into himself miserably and falling asleep within moments.

* * *

He wakes the next morning to a pounding headache and the desire to crawl under a rock and never emerge again. He remembers going to Arthur's flat, getting drunk, climbing into his lap. He remembers the way Arthur had pinned him down, how his body had reacted. Shame curls in his gut. Arthur had probably pushed him away because he'd noticed his arousal. There's no way Arthur could ever want Emrys. 

God, he'd kissed Arthur by the lake, and then last night he'd climbed into his lap and basically announced his attraction to Arthur with a raging hard-on that pretty much indicated how much he'd like Arthur to hold him down and fuck him. Merlin drops his head into his hands with a groan.  _Fuck._ He's not sure he can ever look Arthur in the eye again.

He stumbles into the shower, the hot water helping to ease the pressure behind his eyes and soothe his knotted muscles. He runs his hands over his chest, feeling the bumps and ridges of scar tissue under his fingertips. The one on his side is newest, from the takedown of the gang leaders that seems so long ago now. There's a small scar on his left shoulder from a stray knife, another puckered scar under his right collarbone from the gunshot wound when he'd first met Lance; three parallel scars wrap around the right side of his ribs from when Freya had lashed out one night in Bastet form. His arms are dotted with small silvery scars from various cuts and scrapes while more trail down his legs, topped by a jagged scar on his knee from where he'd fallen and split it open as a child.

What has not been written in scars has been painted on Merlin's skin in purple and green in the shape of fists and boots and the hard edges of the earth, as often put there by his own clumsiness than by another's hand. But he still remembers the sound of his rib cracking as he lay curled in the dusty earth, cruel words ringing in his ears as the blows rained down, Will's angry shouts drowned out by the static overtaking everything.  _Freak,_ they'd called him. If only he'd known that that word would end with Will lying dead in his arms, the once childhood bully now a murderer.

He is no longer a child, cowering against the blows of schoolyard bullies in Ealdor, but he can never escape from what he is, from the words that have followed him wherever he goes.  _Freak. Dangerous. Unnatural. Cursed. Monster._ Morgana is right. Somewhere, at some point, between the blows and the insults and the crushing loneliness, between the terror that came with uncontrollable magic and watching Will die for his secret, he had started to believe them. 

Arthur's words echo through his mind.  _You listen to me. You're going to pull yourself together and stop blaming yourself for things you can't change. This city needs you, whether they know it or not._

He's right, Merlin realizes. He cannot get rid of his magic, no matter how hard he tries. It is a part of him. It  _is_ him. It doesn't change who he is inside. He is human, and he has made mistakes, many mistakes, but that  _doesn't mean you just give up,_ Arthur had said.  _You can be_   _this lone hero, saving people but never truly connecting to them, or you can risk it all and find something worth fighting for, something that gives you a reason to keep doing what you do. You can't save people and remain separate from them. It's when you stop trying to be human that you lose your humanity, and what kind of hero are you then?_

What kind of hero, indeed. He cannot be an uncaring God, standing above humans without regard for their life; always apart and alone. He saves people because he is one of them, because he loves and is loved in return, because without hope and kindness and love there is no meaning to life at all. If he loses that, if he loses  _himself,_ he is no longer the hero he set out to be.

_What is a hero?_ he wonders. Maybe a hero is what he makes it, what he decides to do with the power he's been given. Maybe it's bravery, and strength, the will to protect others, or maybe it's intelligence and cunning and resourcefulness. Maybe it's loyalty, and honesty, and kindness. Maybe it's love.

Maybe, to be a hero means simply being human.

* * *

He should have known Nimueh's silence wouldn't last. It's the middle of the day when the precinct suddenly shudders, the sound of screams audible. Merlin startles, sharing a nervous look with Gwen as they rush out of the lab. People are running down the hallway, dust trickling from the ceiling as the building shudders, officers shouting orders over the din. Merlin catches Percy's arm as he jogs past, gun at the ready.

"What's going on?"

"Nimueh," Percy replies grimly. "And another sorcerer. They're going after Arthur and his father." With that he takes off again. 

Merlin turns, making for an empty room to teleport back to his flat and grab his outfit.

"Where are you going?" Gwen shouts after him, quickly getting lost in the crowd.

Merlin looks over his shoulder. "Something I have to do!"

He finds the nearest darkened room and slips inside, immediately teleporting to his flat. He throws his gear on and re-appears in the middle of the precinct, where Nimueh stands in the middle of a ring of destruction, constables lying still on the floor and objects thrown around the room. Beside her is an unfamiliar man with shoulder-length greasy brown hair and a narrow face, beady eyes glittering with malice and teeth bared in a feral smile. Uther and Arthur are pinned to the wall by Nimueh's magic, the room strangely silent in the aftermath of the destruction.

"Hello, Emrys," Nimueh says. "How good of you to show up."

"Let them go."

Nimueh just smiles. "I have them exactly where I want them, just like I do you." She gestures to the man beside her. "Do you know who this is?"

Merlin doesn't respond. Nimueh's smile grows.

"This is Cornelius Sigan. He possesses the power to bend people's minds to his will. Not even you, Emrys, can resist him. So you have two options. Join me willingly, or Cornelius will harness your power to his will, and you will be forced to watch as you slaughter the humans you love so much."

Merlin widens his stance, hands flexing at his sides as his magic coils under his skin. "Never."

Nimueh smirks. "I expected nothing less. But you will not have a choice." 

Merlin throws out a hand, magic rushing towards her, but Nimueh deflects it with the back of her hand. 

"Cornelius, if you please," she says.

Suddenly there's a feeling like ice down his spine and something wraps around his mind, whispering indistinctly. He staggers, the feeling of  _wrongwrongwrong_ intensifying as his magic recoils, wisps of blue intertwining with it and tightening like a noose. He sees Sigan in front of him with a hand outstretched, eyes pitch black and that same eerie smile on his face. 

" _Emrysss_ ," Sigan whispers into his mind. 

"-mrys. Emrys!" It's Arthur's voice, clarity piercing through the fog. "Fight it, I know you can."

He lashes out, stumbling and clutching his head as he sends a desk flying towards Sigan. Nimueh deflects and it misses him by inches, splintering against the wall. 

"I can't hold him!" Sigan shouts. "Do something!"

There's a flash, and then Merlin is flying through the air, white-hot pain exploding in his chest. He lands hard, cracking the back of his head on the tiles and gasping in pain, the world blurring alarmingly and a strange ringing in his ears. The smell of burning flesh is acrid in his nose.

He hears footsteps, each one loud in the silence, a strange numbness falling over everything. He closes his eyes briefly and pushes himself off the ground, staggering to his feet.

Nimueh whirls from where she'd been advancing on Arthur. She looks momentarily shocked before her face settles back into a smirk.

"Not giving up just yet, are you?" She jerks her head at Cornelius. "I guess I'll have to do it myself. Finish him."

The blue fog twists around him again, and he tries to call on his magic but nothing happens, coldness spreading through his body. His chest throbs with pain, every breath agony and the world tilting around him, dark spots appearing in his vision. He screams but nothing comes out. His legs buckle and he falls to his knees, the last spark of his magic falling silent in Sigan's control.

"I'll make Emrys watch as I kill you both, starting with you." Nimueh's voice rings clear and cold. Merlin blinks, vision blurring, and sees Arthur pinned up against the wall, Nimueh's hand clenched in a fist. He's choking, and something in Merlin's chest sparks and sputters as Arthur's eyes meet his. The rest of the world disappears. There is only Arthur, dying in front of him, and one thought pierces through the haze of pain.

_Not Arthur. Not him._

His magic flares, straining against the blue coils binding it. It builds, growing hotter and hotter, burning him from the inside out, and he can feel the moment his eyes shift to flame as he looks up, straight at Sigan.

Sigan pales, stumbling back a step. "No, it isn't-it isn't possible-"

Merlin heaves himself to his feet, small sparks of magic dancing over his hands as he clenches them into fists.

Nimueh stares.

Arthur's eyes flutter closed.

There's a moment of silence, and then Merlin's magic bursts free.

Sigan's shackles crack and shatter, splintering apart, a wave of magic pulsing out and destroying everything in its wake. The building shakes, chunks of ceiling raining down, and cracks open up in the floor, spreading out like fault-lines away from the epicenter. Wind whips at Merlin's hair, magic crackling along his body in golden arcs of power, Sigan falling like a puppet with its strings cut as Merlin's power slices through his. 

Nimueh screams in fury, fire flowing from her hands, but Merlin bats it aside without a thought, cold rage consuming him. Thunder rumbles, the sky above the torn roof of the precinct turning black and stormy. Lightning flashes and Merlin raises a hand, bending it to his will. It strikes Nimueh, tearing her apart, turning her to ash that's carried away by the fierce winds. 

Merlin can suddenly see the atoms that make up life, can feel how one nudge could create something new. He could rearrange them into any shape of his pleasing, could write the world anew, could raze it to the ground with a single thought. The power consumes him, overtakes him, raging around him without end.

He feels a stab of fear as he tries to rein it in and fails, the magic whipping out of his control. It swirls around him in streaks of gold, destroying everything in its path, breaking them down into elements, into molecules, into atoms, until there is nothing left at all. The very earth shakes as he drops to his knees, breathing hard as he tries to catch the strands of magic that slip through his fingers to lash out in mounting fury.

Something brushes against his senses, making him look up. Arthur carves a path through the swirling storm, haloed in golden magic that parts for him like the Red Sea, his hair ruffled by the wind but eyes determined as he sets one foot in front of the other. He reaches Merlin and crouches down, hands gripping his shoulders. Sparks dance over his hands without burning, and Merlin feels strands wrap around Arthur's wrists gently, caressing.

Time slows, the storm around them suspended in motion, an eerie silence encapsulating them in the middle of the destruction. 

"It's over," Arthur pleads. "You need to stop."

"I can't," Merlin chokes out. "I can't-"

"You can." Arthur's hands tighten on his shoulders. 

Merlin shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as tears stream down his face. "I  _can't."_

"Look at me." Arthur shakes him. "Emrys, look at me."

Merlin opens his eyes, meeting Arthur's.

"I've got you," Arthur says. "Let go."

Merlin stares into Arthur's eyes, finding determination and trust and  _belief,_ as if Arthur thinks he can shoulder the weight of the world, can hold the storm in his hand and command it to  _stop._ There is no fear in his eyes, no room for hesitation. He doesn't flinch as magic creeps over his skin, twining around him like a lover finding home. His eyes tell the truth. Merlin can let go, and Arthur will catch him, for he is Arthur's, and therefore his  _magic_ is Arthur's, and he has never been able to hurt him. He does not need to control his magic. It has always known what to do. He only needs to let it free.

He lets go.

There's a rushing sound as his magic expands in all directions, sinking into the earth and fading harmlessly. The wind stops. The dust settles around them, blue sky peeking through the roof as the clouds retreat. Merlin takes a deep breath, feeling returning to his body as the heady power drains away.

With the return of his body comes pain. His chest throbs, every cell in his body alive with pain, magic bruised and drained and leaving an emptiness in his chest. The world spins, Arthur's face blurring in his vision. He's saying something, but it fades away as Merlin falls, darkness swallowing him up, into Arthur's waiting arms.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur cradles Emrys' body in his arms, surveying the destruction around them. A jagged hole rips through the roof of the precinct, revealing peaceful blue sky at odds with the scene, flecks of plaster still drifting through the air to settle on Arthur's hair and shoulders. The room is unrecognizable, what isn't reduced to dust scattered in circular formations like the afterimage of a tornado, Emrys at its center, a small ring of protection around him. Arthur still remembers how the storm had parted for him, the way not a single piece of debris had touched him. The same seems to be true for the constables lying prone against the crumbling walls, lying unharmed by the wreckage around them and with only Nimueh to blame for their injuries. 

Some of them are starting to awaken, their groans loud in the silence, and Arthur feels a spark of panic. Emrys is lying unconscious in his arms, the burn on his chest even more sickening up close. He can't let him die, can't even let him be arrested. Not after this.

He slides an arm under Emrys' knees and lifts, carrying him bridal-style against his chest. He turns only to come see Uther staring back at him, brushing plaster off his suit as he stumbles from the rubble. Arthur swallows, tightening his grip on Emrys and raising his chin. 

"Father."

Uther coughs and glances around before leveling a look at Arthur. "Go."

Arthur blinks, caught off guard. "What?"

"Go." Uther's eyes hold hidden meaning. "Don't make me regret this."

Arthur gapes, astonished. Uther is...letting Emrys go? There's another groan from nearby and Arthur makes up his mind. His father is giving him a chance, and he can't throw it away.

He nods gratefully before fleeing, making for the side door of the precinct. He can hear sirens approaching and knows news vans and ambulances will soon be on the scene. He has to hurry. 

He makes it across the deserted parking lot, sparing a second of awe for the cracks that spread through the pavement-Emrys is  _powerful-_ and reaching his car. He slides Emrys into the backseat, taking care to keep his hood up, and gets into the driver's seat, starting the car. It rumbles to life and he glances back once more to make sure Emrys is alive before taking off. He passes ambulances and news vans on the road and prays they don't recognize him and wonder why he's going away from the precinct instead of towards it. 

He knows Emrys probably needs a hospital, but it's not an option. Arthur only hopes that the burn isn't as bad as it looks, and Emrys isn't more injured than he thought, otherwise he's in trouble.

He reaches his flat in record time and carries Emrys inside, thankful that all his neighbors are either at work or glued to their tvs. Emrys doesn't stir as he carefully sets him on the couch, eyes closed and chest rising and falling shallowly. The burn is large and circular, spanning almost all of Emrys' chest and looking red and raw and blistered, Emrys' jacket melted away and into it in places. Arthur has little to no medical knowledge, and this is bad.

Sending up a prayer that he doesn't end up killing Emrys he grabs his pocketknife and starts to cut away his jacket from the wound. Emrys suddenly moans, eyelids fluttering, and Arthur pauses.

"Emrys?"

There's no response. Arthur continues cutting through the jacket and starts to try and peel it off before he's stopped by a hand on his wrist.

"No," Emrys mumbles. 

"I have to get it off," Arthur says firmly 

"Not-not-" Emrys pats the side of his head. "Leave it."

"I'll leave the hood," Arthur compromises. He finishes cutting through the jacket and lets the two sides flop open, making sure Emrys' hood is still pulled over his head and his mask is in place. As much as he wants to know who Emrys is, he'll respect his privacy. 

Next is the thin black shirt Emrys is wearing underneath. It splits easily under Arthur's knife, revealing porcelain pale skin. Emrys is lightly muscled but still slim, strangely fragile-looking in the light of Arthur's flat. A few scars mar his skin, and Arthur yearns to know the story behind each one, but it's not the time. 

A few fragments of Emrys' shirt are still embedded into the wound, and Arthur winces. Emrys looks barely conscious, but his eyes are already creased in pain, breaths shallow and ragged, and Arthur knows he's feeling every inch of the burn.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "This won't be fun." He gets up and grabs a washcloth and a glass of cool water, starting to pour it over the wound. Emrys groans quietly but relaxes slightly, and Arthur knows the cool water must be soothing. This is the easy part, though.

When he's rinsed it out as best as he can he takes tweezers and starts to pry the last few scraps of fabric from the wound, provoking a strangled cry from Emrys. He squirms and Arthur pushes down on his shoulder to get him to stay still, murmuring apologies and trying to be as gentle as possible. Soon the pieces are out and Arthur, following the instructions of an internet burn website, begins to clean the wound with mild soap and water using the washcloth. 

Emrys makes small, choked sounds of pain, eyes squeezed tightly shut and a few tears slipping from beneath his lids.

"Shh," Arthur tries to reassure, heart aching with every whimper. "I'm almost done."

He finishes cleaning the burn and gently dabs antibiotic ointment on it before helping Emrys sit up so he can wrap it in clean, white gauze. He cuts the jacket off at the neck, leaving the hood on, and throws the ruined jacket and shirt into his sink. Emrys settles, hands unclenching from the couch and the lines around his eyes relaxing, breaths growing even again. Arthur grabs two paracetamol and a glass of water, holding them out, and Emrys accepts them with shaky hands. His hands, free of gloves, are long-fingered and strangely familiar, though Arthur's mind is too overwhelmed to pinpoint why.

"Here," he says. "This should help."

"Close your eyes," Emrys rasps.

Arthur closes his eyes. "Alright." 

He can imagine Emrys pulling down his mask, hears the sound of him swallow. 

"Okay," Emrys says after a minute.

Arthur opens his eyes, seeing the mask back in place, only Emrys eyes vaguely visible under the shadow of the hood. They're blue, he can see, but he can't make them out well.

"That hood looks stupid," he proclaims. It really does, the ends just flapping around Emrys' shoulders. He holds up a finger. "Wait, I have a better solution."

He goes to his bedroom and pulls out a zip-front hoodie from his uni days, faded and soft. Bringing it out he offers it to Emrys, turning his back for good measure.

"Go ahead, put that on. It'll keep you warmer."

It's several long, torturous minutes of grunts and curses before Emrys gives the okay, voice strained. Arthur doesn't want to imagine the pain of getting the sweatshirt on, but he seems to have managed it. The hood is up, shadowing the part of his face not covered by the mask, and the zipper is partially open over his chest, displaying the bandages, but it looks less ridiculous than the single hood, and the sight of Emrys in Arthur's clothing makes something warm curl in his chest. With the cuffs pulled over his hands and white bandages around his chest, he looks less like the powerful and terrifying sorcerer who'd defeated Sigan and Nimueh and destroyed the precinct, and more...fragile. Young. He's probably Arthur's age, and although he's about the same height, the defeated hunch of his shoulders and the way his fingers curl instinctively around the cuffs of his sleeves make him seem small in comparison.

Arthur abruptly wants to wrap his arms around Emrys and never let go. He settles for grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it around Emrys' shoulders, helping him lean back and positioning pillows so he's propped against the end of the couch. 

"I have to go," he says apologetically. "They'll be wondering where I am, at the precinct, and I have to deal with everything there..."

Emrys nods. "I understand." The distortion in his voice is barely there and wavers, as if he's having trouble sustaining it. 

"I'll be back," Arthur promises, backing towards the door.  _Please still be here,_ he doesn't say. He turns, opening the door.

"Arthur."

He looks back.

"Thank you."

Arthur nods. "You too."

* * *

There's nothing left of Nimueh. Just ash, and the memory of watching her explode, the very heavens opening up to swallow her whole. Sigan's body lies cold and still, the shattering of his magic stealing his life along with it, his eyes still open wide in shock. It plays in Arthur's mind over and over, the moment the world seemed to stop and Emrys exploded, magic rushing out like a tidal wave. 

He remembers seeing Emrys look up, eyes blazing, and closing his own eyes as darkness overtook him. Then the pressure on his throat had stopped, and he'd opened his eyes to a world a gold. It was breathtaking, Emrys golden and glorious and terrifyingly powerful, eyes glowing with the power of a thousand suns and magic whirling around him, dangerous and beautiful all at once. He'd watched as Sigan fell, as Emrys raised a hand and the sky darkened, lighting arcing down as if summoned by a wrathful God; as Nimueh was torn apart ruthlessly, squashed like an insect in the face of Emrys' power.

_Just how powerful is he?_

Emrys is scared of his power, judging by what he said when he was drunk. Arthur had seen it for himself, the way Emrys lost control, the way his magic tore through the precinct like paper. He could level cities in the blink of an eye, if he wanted to. 

But he  _doesn't._ Emrys hates his power, hates to be feared. And Arthur doesn't fear him. He should, he thinks, but he doesn't. He can't. Something deep inside him trusts Emrys implicitly, and Emrys trusts him. It is Arthur who calmed the storm, Arthur who Emrys surrendered himself to; Arthur who the waves of magic parted for, as if it knew him. As if it,  _he,_  could never harm him. 

It gives Arthur a rush, a strange satisfaction, to have all that power bend to his will. Like that night- having Emrys underneath him, submitting, pinned by Arthur's hands, all the while knowing that he could free himself in a second. Arthur had been aroused, painfully so, by Emrys panting underneath him, pinned down, his matching arousal pressing up against Arthur, before abruptly realizing that Emrys was drunk. It wasn't right. It wasn't _real_. Emrys was drunk and lonely and upset, and Arthur was there. Maybe Emrys needed that, to feel like someone else was in control, but it didn't mean anything. 

He  _wants_ it to, though. God, does he want it to. 

Thankfully, the day passes in a blur, and he has little time to contemplate the vigilante possibly still lying injured on his couch. The wounded constables are taken to the hospital, most with minor injuries from impacting with the wall when Nimueh broke in, and Uther makes a public statement that both Nimueh and her accomplice Cornelius Sigan are dead, defeated by Emrys. Arthur can't fathom his father's seemingly sudden change of heart about Emrys, but he's glad for it. It's one less thing he has to worry about. 

The repairs to the precinct will take a long time, but the people still stand, and that is what matters. Arthur hugs Leon and visits Percy in the hospital, where he's being treated for a dislocated shoulder. Elyan and Gwaine are fine, having been trapped downstairs when Nimueh attacked, and Gwen is just worried about where Merlin vanished to. He seems to be the only person unaccounted for, which worries Arthur.  _Where is he?_

Gwen said she'd last seen him during the attack, running off somewhere with the explanation that he had to do something. She hasn't seen him since, and he's not answering his phone. Arthur tries not to worry, telling himself the idiot probably ran and hid, then went home when no one was looking, but he has a bad feeling. Another, smaller voice in his head whispers, _what if?_ What if he knows exactly where Merlin is?

No, it can't be. It can't.

He calls Merlin, but he doesn't pick up. 

Swearing, Arthur digs his keys from his pocket. He's at Merlin's flat five minutes later, having broken a few speed limits, and knocks on the door. 

There's no answer. Arthur knocks again.

After five minutes Arthur picks the lock. The door swings open to an empty flat, the silence broken a moment later by Aithusa's paws padding across the floor. She rubs against Arthur's legs, meowing, and he bends down to pet her.

"Where's Merlin, huh?" he asks. "Don't tell him this, but I'm actually worried about him." 

Aithusa meows again. Arthur sighs, straightening up and doing a sweep of the flat. Everything seems to be in order, or rather disorder, as Merlin is a habitually messy person, and there's no sign that Merlin's been home yet. 

Arthur's phone rings. Seeing it's Morgana, he answers.

"Morgana."

"Arthur! I've wanted to call you all day, but it's been crazy here, and I saw you on tv so I knew you were okay. Are you, though? Okay?"

"Yes, Morgana, I'm okay," he reassures. "I didn't know you cared."

There's a pause. "I don't," Morgana lies badly. "Anyway, what actually happened? The whole precinct is destroyed."

Arthur sighs and relays a brief version of what happened, including that he took Emrys back to his flat and patched him up. 

"But I'm worried about Merlin," he says. "No one's seen him since the attack, and I'm at his flat now and he's not here."

"Oh." Morgana clears his throat. "He's with me."

"What?" Arthur says incredulously. There's relief mingled with disappointment that he doesn't examine too closely. Merlin is just Merlin, clumsy and awkward and unable to hurt a fly, and he curses himself for thinking- _wishing-_ differently.

"Yes," Morgana says. "We were already going to go for lunch, and then the attack happened so I picked him up and he just stayed at the office."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"You're not together anymore, Arthur. Why would that be any of your business?"

She has a point. "Alright, alright," Arthur grumbles. "But tell him to answer his phone. Everyone's worried sick."

"He lost it," Morgana replies quickly. "In the...chaos. He dropped it. So that's why he hasn't been answering."

"Idiot," Arthur mutters. How could he ever have thought  _Merlin_ of all people could be Emrys? 

"Well, glad we cleared that up. Talk to you later. Cheers." The line goes dead.

Arthur pulls the phone away from his ear, shaking his head in exasperation. "Harpy."

* * *

When Arthur finally gets back to his flat it's late afternoon, the precinct having closed down for the time being and everything being relocated to a smaller police station downtown. He hardly dares to hope as he opens his door, walking slowly to the living room. He exhales.

There, on the couch, lies Emrys, wrapped in the blanket and fast asleep. Arthur smiles, something warm and happy settling in his chest, and goes to make dinner.

It's an hour later when Emrys bolts upright, a cry spilling from his lips. Arthur is at his side in an instant, reaching out to set a hand on his back as he gasps for breath, hand hovering over his chest and eyes tight with pain. 

"You're alright," Arthur says. "Breathe through it."

"Fuck," Emrys rasps.

Arthur rubs his thumb over the fabric of the sweatshirt. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit in the chest with a fireball."

"Fair enough." Arthur eyes the bandages on his chest. "Can't you just..." He wiggles his fingers. "Heal it?"

Emrys shakes his head. "I can only heal other people. It uses my energy, my magic, so trying to use myself would just...it wouldn't work."

"Huh." Arthur frowns. "That makes sense. Not so great for you, though."

"No."

Arthur falls silent, thinking. Emrys' breaths slow under his hand, and Arthur can feel the planes of his back, the ridges of his spine; there's something familiar and right about the way Arthur's hand fits between his shoulder-blades.

"About what happened..." Arthur starts. 

Emrys looks away, shoulders stiffening under Arthur's hand. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Arthur frowns. "What could you possibly have to be sorry about? You saved me, you saved all of us."

"I lost control." Emrys' voice is wrecked. "I nearly....I lost myself. I killed them without a second thought, almost destroyed everything. I wouldn't have-I wouldn't have stopped, I would have just kept going and I couldn't-" He breaks off with a choked sob, hands curling into fists.

"Hey. Hey." Arthur shifts so he's sitting on the couch, pulling Emrys back to lean against his chest and wrapping an arm around his throat, speaking into his ear. "Listen to me. You had no choice. They would have killed me, and kept on killing, and more lives would have been lost. Yes, you killed them, but you know what? In all that power, all that destruction, not a single other person was harmed. I walked through your magic, Emrys, and it didn't touch me. You don't need to control it. It's when you try, when you bottle it up, that it destroys things, right? Like that building in uni."

Emrys nods against him, breathing ragged.

"So  _don't,"_ Arthur says, tightening his grip. "Just let it go. And if you ever feel like you're losing yourself, you come to me. I won't let that happen."

"What if I hurt you?"

"You won't. You  _can't."_ Arthur's arm is firm where it presses against Emrys' throat. "Your magic can't hurt me, remember? You're not as all-powerful as you like to think." He lowers his voice. "I bet I could choke you out, right now, and you wouldn't be able to stop me." Emrys shivers. "I took you down once," Arthur reminds him. "It was easy. A small prick of a needle, and you were helpless."

He would never, but something tells him it's what Emrys needs to hear. That he is not a God, that someone will stop him,  _can_ stop him.

"Promise," Emrys murmurs. "Promise, if I lose control, you'll stop me. Whatever it takes."

Arthur does not know if he can keep that promise. Would he be able to kill Emrys, to save the city? He should. Maybe he would, before. But he thinks he can no more hurt Emrys than Emrys can hurt him.

_Whatever it takes._ He will make sure it never comes to that.

He swallows. "I promise."

Emrys slumps against him, head resting in the crook of Arthur's shoulder as the tension drains out of his body. He nuzzles into Arthur's neck, body fitting perfectly against Arthur's as if he was made for him, two puzzle pieces perfectly aligned. His breathing evens and slows, and after a minute Arthur realizes he's fallen asleep again. Arthur relaxes his hold, letting his hands fall to settle on Emrys' stomach and resting his head on top of the soft fabric of his hoodie covering Emrys' head.

The realization comes slowly and yet all at once, settling into place with every beat of Emrys' heart against his chest. 

He loves him. 

He loves Emrys. 

It is not the swift infatuation of a young fling, not the love that comes with the fascination of something magical and powerful, not the love that comes with beauty or sex. It is a purest kind of love, the love that comes from seeing what's in someone's heart, their soul; of trusting and being trusted in return; of knowing and being known. He loves Emrys not because of who he is-what he looks like or where he comes from, his identity in the world-but because of who he is  _inside._ It does not matter who Emrys is, because Arthur already knows him. He already loves him. 

It does not mean that he can have him.

Arthur gently works himself out from under Emrys, lowering him down to the couch and drawing the blanket over him again. Emrys curls into it but doesn't wake, eyes moving rapidly under their lids, and Arthur is struck by the desire to reach out, to pull away the mask and smooth the lines of his face.

But this, Emrys has not trusted him with. Arthur may love Emrys, but Emrys does not love him. He has only shared one side of himself with Arthur, and though Arthur loves Emrys, loves the very shape of his soul, he does not love whoever Emrys is besides. Not yet. Maybe one day, he will know, and maybe he will fall in love with that Emrys, but for now he loves as only a blind man can, on love alone. 

Looking at Emrys, at the sweep of his lashes and the set of his eyes, it's so easy to imagine Merlin's face under the mask. The jut of his hipbones, the slope of his shoulders, the way his body felt against him-it's all Merlin. He thinks of large blue eyes and pale skin and a slender frame, and again, Arthur thinks,  _what if?_ What if the man he's been looking for has been in front of him all along?

He climbs into bed with mind whirling, trying to trace a path between Merlin and Emrys, Emrys and Merlin. The pieces fit, too well, but he knows things are rarely that simple. Part of him wants Merlin to be Emrys, because he is in love with both of them, and because everything would be easy, but another part wants Merlin far away from Emrys, far away from the pain and suffering and danger, wants Merlin's shoulders unbent by hatred and fear and the weight of his own power. Most of all, he wants Merlin not to have lied to him, not about this.

He falls asleep to the image of Emrys alight with power, but it is Merlin's face that stares back at him. When he wakes, the couch is empty, the blanket folded carefully on the back.

Emrys is gone.

* * *

Arthur knocks on Merlin's door, trying to slow his racing heart. This is it, the moment of truth. This will determine whether he's crazy, or whether his suspicions are right, and Merlin is who he thinks he is. 

The door opens.

"Arthur, hey."

He tries to smile, staring at Merlin's chest as disappointment and relief swell within him. Merlin looks perfectly fine, no lines of pain around his eyes and wearing a t-shirt that's smooth over his chest, no bandages in sight. Emrys' wound last night had been bad, extremely bad, and it wouldn't have healed yet because Emrys told him he can't heal himself. He would at least be in pain, unable to move without wincing, but Merlin looks at ease, still holding the door open in a pose that would stretch the wound.

Merlin isn't Emrys. Arthur can't believe he ever thought otherwise. It's crazy, to think bumbling, idiotic, sweet-natured Merlin could ever display the grace and power Emrys does. But it had  _fit_ so well, so well Arthur had been half-convinced it was true. It would explain so much, like Merlin's swinging moods, his secrets, why he broke up with him at the same time Emrys stopped seeing him. Why Merlin was so reluctant to let Arthur see his chest. 

But it's not true. Merlin isn't Emrys. He's just a normal person with secrets and hang-ups and issues, and Arthur has to accept the fact that there is no wonderful explanation for Merlin's secretiveness, no ulterior motive to Merlin's self-consciousness, no self-sacrificing reason for Merlin breaking up with him. Maybe he has been projecting Emrys onto Merlin, trying to see him in Merlin's every move, when all along it's just been an excuse to brush off Merlin's behavior. If he accepts that Merlin isn't Emrys, he accepts that maybe Merlin isn't the one for him. That maybe Merlin is flawed, and selfish, and though Arthur loves him, it is not enough. He cannot fix this.

"Arthur?" Merlin's tentative voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he realizes he's still standing in the doorway. "Do you...want to come in?" Merlin asks.

Arthur swallows and nods, stepping over the threshold. Merlin closes the door and turns, wringing his hands together the way he always does when he's nervous.

"I...I've been meaning to talk to you," he says. "Arthur, I know-I know I've hurt you, and you have no reason to forgive me, but..." He gulps, and Arthur has a sinking feeling. "I'll tell you everything. All of it. I've been lying to you because I was scared, and because I wanted to protect you, but I've realized that I was only protecting myself, and Arthur-" 

He steps closer, blue eyes burning with intensity. "I want to tell you, because I love you."

There's a moment, looking into Merlin's eyes, when the words rest on the tip of his tongue, heart cracking open. He opens his mouth to say them, to say  _yes,_ _I love you too, come back to me,_ and stops.

Because he loves Merlin, but he loves Emrys too, and it's not fair. Arthur is in love with Emrys, his powerful, pure-hearted magical protector, and Arthur is in love with Merlin, his clumsy, good-hearted scientist, and, as much as he wishes, they are not the same person. They are two different kinds of love, both true, one borne of enmity and the other of friendship, one he  _knows_ without knowing and one of _knowing_ that he does not truly know at all. His heart belongs to both, and it is not fair to Merlin, to know he will never love him completely. 

He loves them, but he cannot have them. 

"I'm in love with someone else," he blurts.

There's a moment of silence, and Arthur can pinpoint the moment Merlin's heart breaks.

"Oh," he whispers. He swallows, nodding, a sheen of tears in his eyes. "I-I understand."

Arthur wants to reach out, wants to take his words back, but he can only watch as Merlin glances away, struggling to maintain his composure.

"Who?" he finally asks, then winces. "Never mind, it's none of my business." He looks back at Arthur. "How long?"

Arthur shrugs, blinking back his own tears. "A while. If I'm being honest, since before we even started dating. I'm sorry."

Merlin shakes his head. "You don't have to apologize. I just-I want you to be happy."

_I'm not,_ Arthur wants to say.  _I'm not happy. I'm breaking my own heart._

"Thank you," he says instead. It comes out stilted. He backs towards the door. "I should...I should go."

Merlin nods, face turned away from Arthur, and Arthur opens the door, looking back once. Merlin stands, shoulders hunched, head bowed, fists clenched at his side, and for a moment he looks exactly like Emrys. Then Arthur blinks, and the vision fades, leaving just Merlin. 

He closes the door behind him softly, covering his face with his hands.  _What have I done?_

_The right thing,_ he conscience whispers. 

Then why does it feel so wrong?

* * *

The attack by Nimueh and Sigan and Emrys' subsequent heroics makes the paper, Morgana spinning it to downplay the destruction Emrys caused and focus on how he saved the city. Arthur frets over Emrys, who hasn't reappeared, worried that the burn was worse than he thought. What if Emrys is dying? What if it got infected? 

Days pass, and Emrys still doesn't return. Slowly but surely, the precinct is repaired, and the staff moves back in to the intact parts. Arthur avoids Merlin, consumed by guilt and the knowledge that he did the right thing, and Merlin seems to avoid him as well.

Conflicted and heartbroken, Arthur goes out drinking. A pretty girl-Vivian something-flirts with him, and he returns in kind, feeling spiteful and lonely and maybe hoping that if he finds someone else, he can forget about Emrys and Merlin. He dances with her, the alcohol in his system making everything fuzzy and warm, mind clouded and rational thought flying out the window. 

The next thing he knows they're stumbling into his flat, giggling and trading sloppy kisses. He looks up and freezes, seeing a shadowed form in the living room, but in the next blink there's nothing there. Arthur is suddenly sober, a sickening weight in his stomach that feels like guilt. He pushes Vivian away, abruptly disinterested and wondering what the hell he was even doing in the first place.

"I'm sorry," he says. "We can't do this."

"What?" Vivian looks incredulous. "What do you mean?"

"You should go home. I'll call you a cab."

Vivian's expression changes from confusion to anger and she huffs, snatching up her jacket from the floor and turning on her heel. "Fucking asshole," she hisses, before breezing through the door and slamming it behind her. 

Arthur sighs, collapsing into the couch and putting his head in his hands. 

* * *

Emrys reappears a week after the incident, saving a bus full of students from an accident. He resumes his normal routine, the papers celebrating his return, but he still hasn't come back to Arthur's flat. It stings, the dismissal, and more than that Arthur wants to tell Emrys that nothing happened between him and Vivian, that it didn't mean anything. But what would that change? Arthur still can't have him, no matter how much he wants to.

It's early morning, two weeks after the incident, when Emrys appears in his office, a small huddled shape at his side. 

"Emrys." Arthur's heart leaps in hope. 

Emrys nudges the huddled figure forwards. It's a young boy, probably no more than ten or twelve, with dark hair and luminous blue eyes that seem to stare into Arthur's soul as he pulls down the hood of his sweatshirt.  

"This is Mordred," Emrys says. "He has some information."

Arthur rounds the desk and crouches down, trying to paste a reassuring expression on his face. He's never been good with children. "Hey," he says. "I'm Arthur. Why don't you take a seat and tell me what's going on?"

Mordred doesn't respond, still staring at him with those unreadable eyes before glancing up at Emrys. Something seems to pass between them, a silent conversation, and then Emrys disappears. The boy takes a seat in the chair across from Arthur's desk, folding his hands in his lap as he looks back up at Arthur.

Arthur sighs. This is going to be a long day.

* * *

The boy, Mordred, is eerily silent. Arthur barely manages to coax out his full name-Mordred Cerdan-and that he has been living on the streets since he ran away from the orphanage. It checks out, as Ascetir Orphanage's records show that ten-year-old Mordred went missing a few months ago, and he has a closed-off, hardened air common in street kids. 

Mordred also has magic, though Arthur can't get him to say any more about it, only that a man tried to kidnap him, and he gives a general description. It's not much to go on, but when, on a hunch, Arthur pulls up Aredian's picture, the boy frowns and nods. 

"That might be him."

_Finally._ Arthur feels like hugging the boy. Finally, they have something on Aredian. If Mordred was Aredian's next victim, and he escaped, it means he could be the key to bringing him down.  

"You're safe now," he tells him. "I promise. We'll get him."

The boy just stares at him solemnly, unblinking.

* * *

Thomas Aredian sits in the interrogation room, suit perfectly creased and expression calm except for his eyes, sharp and shrewd, which flit around the room as if taking in every detail. They focus on Arthur as he strides in, taking a seat across the table from him. 

Aredian smiles, the expression devoid of warmth, clasping his fingers on the table. "Arthur Pendragon," he acknowledges. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"I'm afraid I can't say the same." Arthur levels him with a cool gaze. "I don't normally enjoy meeting murderers, but, then again, I've finally got you here, so..." He spreads his hands. 

"Hmm." Aredian's smile doesn't falter. "Alleged murderer," he corrects. "I must say, I find your accusations shocking. Do you have any proof?"

"I do. But if you could confess now, it would save both of us a lot of time and trouble."

"I'm afraid I can't confess to something I haven't done. So, unless you have anything  _real,_ I'll be leaving now." 

Arthur stands. "Not so fast. I can hold you for seventy-two hours. So, unless you want to confess, you had better get comfortable." He sweeps from the room, finding Merlin and Mordred standing outside looking through the viewing window. Merlin looks like he wants to rip Aredian's throat out, and if looks could kill, Aredian would be a steaming puddle on the floor. Mordred is, as ever, unreadable.

"So?" Arthur asks, looking at Mordred. "It's him?"

Mordred shakes his head, making Arthur gape. "No," Mordred says calmly. "It's not him."

"Are you sure?" Arthur bends down, putting a hand on Mordred's shoulder. "If you're afraid, it's okay, but we'll protect you. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me it wasn't him."

Mordred looks him in the eye. "It wasn't him."

" _Fuck,"_ Arthur swears under his breath, straightening up. He resists the urge to punch the wall, running a hand through his hair. "Fu..dge," he repeats louder, glancing at Mordred. "Then we have nothing. I have to cut him loose."

Merlin whirls, eyes like hot coals. "You can't just let him go!" he yells. "He's a  _murderer,_ he-"

"Merlin." 

"-do you even care about the people he's killed? He's  _right there,_ and you're just going to let him-let him  _walk out-?"_

"Merlin!" Merlin cuts off his tirade, shoulders heaving. "Of course I care," Arthur says heatedly. "Of course I don't want to let him go, but I don't have a choice. What would you have me do?"

Without waiting for Merlin's answer he opens the door again, taking a deep breath.

"You're free to go," he tells Aredian, voice clipped. 

Aredian smiles, picking up his wide-brimmed hat from the table and settling it on his head before getting up. He brushes past Arthur on his way out and pauses, glancing over at Merlin.

"Do I know you?"

Merlin's hands are clenched in fists at his sides, eyes flinty. He tilts his chin up, meeting Aredian's curious stare. "No."

"Hmm." Aredian studies Merlin the way one might study a deer they're about to shoot. "You look very familiar. I could swear I've met you before. Family relation, perhaps?"

All the blood drains from Merlin's face. Aredian cocks his head.

"Well, never mind," he says. "I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually." He tips his hat to Merlin. "Until next time."

He turns and stalks out of the room, long overcoat billowing behind him, as Merlin stands like a statue, expression caught between terror and fury. 

"Merlin?" Arthur takes a step towards him. "What was that about?"

Abruptly, Merlin seems to break out of his trance, blinking.

"Nothing," he snaps. "Just forget about it." He pushes past Arthur, gone before he can do more than open his mouth uselessly, at a loss.

He looks helplessly at Mordred, whose calm stare seems suddenly unnerving. There's something off about this whole thing, but he can't put his finger on what. 

"Come on," he sighs. "I'll take you back to mine." Mordred is staying at his for the time being, with around-the-clock protection from his fellow inspectors. 

Mordred simply nods silently, coming closer to slide his hand into Arthur's. Arthur startles, looking down.

"I'm sorry," Mordred says quietly. 

"What for?"

Mordred doesn't respond.

* * *

The house is dark and quiet when he gets home, Mordred at Morgana's for the night. She had taken to him immediately, and Arthur privately thinks she may end up adopting him. Though they've made no progress on the kidnapping case or Aredian, Mordred has settled into their lives readily, and they've begun to decrease the protection surrounding him. Whoever had tried to kidnap him, it seems it was a one-time thing; one of the habitual dangers of being a street kid. Arthur knows he's safe enough with Morgana, who can defend him with magic if need be.

Mordred has also seemed to take a shine to Merlin. Though Merlin still avoids Arthur, he seems to have made fast friends with Morgana, and together they and Mordred make a strange sort of family. The resemblance is uncanny, honestly. If Arthur didn't know better, he would say Mordred is Merlin and Morgana's son. Especially with how they all seem to talk without speaking, sharing significant looks that somehow mean something to them and leaving Arthur lost. Mordred doesn't talk much, and Arthur is terrible with kids, so he's been happy to foist him off on Morgana and Merlin, but sometimes he wishes he had the easy closeness they seem to share. 

Sometimes, it feels like everyone else is connecting, and Arthur is left alone. First Merlin, now Emrys, now Mordred; eventually, everyone leaves him. He wonders if it is something about him. What about him makes people feel they can't trust him, they can't talk to him? Why is he never enough? 

Maybe it's because he's been raised to see emotion as weakness, caring as useless. Maybe it's because he watched his own father drown in grief, hardening his heart against the world until even his son was left outside the wall he had built. Maybe it's because Arthur has never felt like he's enough, constantly trying to live up to his father's expectations and constantly falling short, failing and failing in each one of his relationships no matter how hard he tries. Maybe it's because he loves too much, gives his heart away too freely; and maybe his father is right, love is weakness, because no one ever loves him back, and it breaks his heart.

A tingle runs up his arms. He turns, seeing the shadowy form he both longs to see and yet hates; for his distance, for making Arthur fall in love with him and then breaking his heart.

"Emrys," he says tiredly. "What is it?"

"I know you don't love me," Emrys starts, and Arthur sucks in a breath. 

"What? No-"

Emrys holds up a hand. "For once in your life, just listen. Please."

Arthur makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. Emrys takes a breath, stepping closer.

"I know you don't love me," Emrys repeats, and there's something about his voice, something different, the distortion fading away, "but I love you, Arthur Pendragon. I have always loved you. And I always will, until the day I die."

He's even closer now, golden eyes wet with unshed tears, and Arthur wants to reach out and touch, wants to ask what Emrys means, because it feels like goodbye.

"I'm sorry. For everything. You were always enough, Arthur,  _always."_  Emrys swallows, a hand coming up to cup Arthur's face. His thumb strokes over his cheekbone."I have one last favor to ask."

"Anything," Arthur whispers.

"Close your eyes."

Arthur closes his eyes.

A moment passes, and then Emrys' lips press against his, and Arthur  _knows_ this, knows the curve of his lips, the way he kisses, hard and soft all at once; Arthur  _knows_ him, and it feels like home.

It lasts for an instant, or maybe a lifetime, and then he pulls away, fingertips trailing over Arthur's face in a last caress, and Arthur opens his eyes, but he is gone.

Arthur touches his lips, the world realigning as the last puzzle piece falls into place.

" _Merlin,"_ he breathes. 


	12. Chapter 12

_One month earlier_

* * *

Merlin wakes to find Arthur gone. He sits up slowly, painfully, chest throbbing beneath the layers of bandages and making him grit his teeth. The living room is dark and quiet, and he figures Arthur must have tired of being used as a pillow and went to bed. Some small part of him is disappointed, hoping Arthur would have stayed, but he hushes it. There's no use thinking like that.

His chest presents a new problem. It's bad, very bad, and he knows it will take weeks to heal. He doesn't have weeks. Plus, if Merlin doesn't show up to work, and seems injured, everyone will put the pieces together immediately, if they haven't already. 

He needs to heal himself, but how? It's not like he knows many powerful sorcerers. 

Merlin sits up straight, immediately regretting it as he winces.  _Of course. Morgana._

His magic feels drained and weak, barely flickering to life, but he latches on to the last threads of power and pictures Morgana's office, praying she's still there at this time of night.

He lands on the floor ungracefully, curling into himself as pain flares through his chest and dark spots dance in his vision, body protesting the use of magic. He groans, and footsteps rush across the floor, a familiar hand touching his shoulder and sending a tingle through him.

"Emrys. What are you doing here? You're hurt," Morgana scolds, helping him to sit up and lean against the side of the couch. She scans him up and down. "And  _what_ are you wearing?"

"I need...a favor..." Merlin pants, the world spinning uncontrollably. 

"Of course. Anything."

"I need you..to heal me."

"What? Morgana's hands tighten on his shoulders. "I don't know how to heal."

"You're gonna learn," Merlin mumbles, as the world finally begins to right itself. 

Morgana takes a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. Just tell me what to do. But first, let's get you on the couch."

Merlin grits his teeth and pushes himself to his feet, stumbling the few steps until he collapses onto the couch. Morgana starts to wrestle his sweatshirt off him, to his increasingly panicked protests.

"Wait, no, you can't-"

"Oh for God's sake Merlin, calm down, I already know who you are," Morgana huffs.

"Wha-what?" Merlin croaks. 

"Honestly, Merlin, it was obvious. But now's not the time. Get this ridiculous outfit off so I can heal you before you keel over." Morgana succeeds in pulling the sweatshirt from his limp arms, Merlin too stunned to react as she undoes his mask and pulls it off as well. 

His brain shuts down and he flops back onto the couch, lying still as she starts to peel away the bandages from his chest. He should be more upset about Morgana knowing, he thinks, but he can't summon the energy.

Morgana sucks in a breath as she sees the wound, hands trembling.

"I don't think I can do this," she says.

"You have to. And you can. You're the best magic user I know."

"Comforting," Morgana mutters. "Okay, how do I do this?"

"Put your hands on the wound."

With great distaste, Morgana does, making Merlin grimace.

"Okay, now call on your magic and just....picture it healing."

Morgana stares at him. "You don't actually know how do to this, do you?"

"Yes I do. I mean, I've done it before, it's just, well, I don'tactuallyknowhowIdidit," Merlin mumbles.

Morgana's fingers dig into the burn, making him yelp. "I'm going to kill you," she says calmly. "I'm going to heal you, and then I'm going to kill you, you useless sorcerer. And if this kills you first, don't blame me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Here goes nothing."

Morgana closes her eyes, and Merlin feels the tingle of magic spread across his chest. It sinks down into the burn, making pain explode through his body as he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into the couch, trying to stay still. 

Then the fire turns into a wash of coolness that makes him relax, a prickling sensation in the wound. He looks up to see Morgana's face tight with concentration, sweat beading on her brow and body trembling with strain. Gold swirls around the wound, the pressure in Merlin's chest easing as he draws the first deep breath he has in hours.

Morgana slumps, panting, the gold dissipating into the air. She wipes a hand over her forehead, peering at the wound.

"That's the best I can do."

Merlin cranes his neck to see, catching sight of a large circular scar on his chest, some places still tender and healing. It's not perfect, but it'll do.

"You did it," he breathes.

Morgana smiles, an expression of pride creeping onto her face. "I did."

"Thank you."

She points an accusing finger at him. "Never make me do that again."

"Don't worry, I don't want to," he mutters. "That hurt."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought, seeing as you're not dying on my couch because of me."

"I wasn't  _dying."_

"It would have been very slow," Morgana assures. 

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

Merlin props himself up on his elbows, the lack of mask and hood making him feel strangely vulnerable. "So...you know who I am."

Morgana smirks. "Once I put the pieces together, it was obvious."

"When did you find out?"

"I suspected, when Emrys stopped visiting me and Arthur after Edwin, and you broke up with Arthur at the same time." Morgana sighs. "So I asked you out to lunch, and I was pretty sure. Then you came to my office as Emrys and I knew. You have the same mannerisms, you talk the same, you even _look_ the same, around the eyes. You really should work on that."

Merlin grimaces. "Was I really that obvious?"

"Yes," Morgana replies. "I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it earlier." She pats his leg. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Merlin frowns. "Why didn't you tell me that you knew?"

Morgana's expression falters. "I was worried that...if you knew that I knew, you'd leave me again."

"I'm sorry." Merlin looks down. "I won't. I promise."

"Well good, because I have a lot of blackmail material on you. Though I am still dying to use it."

Merlin glances at her. "I can't tell if you're joking or not."

Morgana just smiles.

* * *

Merlin fingers the edge of Arthur's sweatshirt, smiling slightly. He thinks of Arthur's gentle hands, the concern in his eyes, the way he'd held Merlin tightly and banished all his fears. Arthur could have arrested him, could have left him to Uther's mercy, but he hadn't. Instead he'd saved him, bringing him home and bandaging his wound. Merlin can't help the swell of emotion that rises up just thinking about it.

More than that, Arthur had been worried about  _him._ Morgana had said she covered for him, telling Arthur that he was with her, but Merlin wonders if maybe it's time to end the lies. Nimueh had targeted Arthur not because of Emrys but because he is a Pendragon, because of her hatred for Uther. Arthur is right, staying away doesn't protect him. 

Arthur was right all along, because  _Arthur_ is what keeps Merlin human, Arthur is the one who finds him when he's lost and brings him back to himself. It is Arthur who walked through the storm of Merlin's magic, unharmed, and Arthur who Merlin's magic is  _for._ Merlin doesn't need to control his magic, for Arthur was right, it is when he tries that it rebels. All along, he has never needed to. 

He loves Arthur. He loves Arthur, and he is magic, and his magic loves Arthur as well. He would die before he let harm come to Arthur, would rend the very heavens and break the world apart to keep him safe. 

_I'm not enough,_ Arthur had said, voice full of pain, but Arthur has always been enough. He is  _everything._

He loves Arthur. It is the only truth he knows. And Arthur is worth it, worth the risk, worth everything. Merlin knows Arthur better than himself, and it is time for Arthur to know him. He already does, in truth, he knows Merlin inside and out, knows the darkest parts of him and hasn't turned away. Arthur knows Emrys.

It's time for him to know Merlin.

* * *

Merlin pulls a t-shirt over his head, wincing as it rubs against the healing burn on his chest. It's sore but bearable, new pink skin filling out the shiny scar tissue that tugs with his every movement. 

The knock on the door makes him jump, heart rabbiting in his chest. Straightening his shirt and running a hand through his hair he pads over to the door, opening it and ignoring the twinge of pain through his chest from the motion.  

"Arthur, hey."

Arthur stands there, a strange expression on his face as he stares at Merlin. There's something like disappointment on his face, eyes roving over him and brow creased in thought. Merlin stands awkwardly, unsure what to do.  _Tell him,_ his mind whispers. This is the moment he's been waiting for.

"Arthur?" he finally questions, making Arthur blink and meet his gaze. "Do you...want to come in?"

Arthur swallows and nods, stepping over the threshold. Merlin closes the door and turns, wringing his hands together nervously.  _Your tell,_ Morgana had said.  _You always do that when you're nervous, as Emrys and Merlin._

"I...I've been meaning to talk to you," Merlin starts, heart beating loudly in his ears.  _Just tell him._ "Arthur, I know-I know I've hurt you, and you have no reason to forgive me, but..." He gulps.  _Please don't hate me._ "I'll tell you everything. All of it. I've been lying to you because I was scared, and because I wanted to protect you, but I've realized that I was only protecting myself, and Arthur-"

He steps closer, steeling himself. "I want to tell you, because I love you."

The admission hangs in the air as Arthur stares back at him, eyes open and soft. Merlin dares to hope as Arthur opens his mouth, then pauses. Something passes over his eyes and their light dims. 

"I'm in love with someone else," Arthur says, and Merlin's heart shatters.

* * *

Merlin avoids Arthur at work, deflecting his friends' questions about his sullen mood. Gwen seems to accept Morgana's cover story for the incident and scolds him for not calling, Lance texts Merlin wishing him a swift recovery, and Gwaine wraps him in a bear hug, making him yelp. Gaius makes him promise not to return to the streets for a week, to let his chest heal, and Merlin agrees without his usual protests, too tired and conflicted to contemplate anything but sleep.

Morgana comes over to his flat a few days after the incident and Merlin fills her in on Arthur's visit, even Aithusa abandoning him to sit on Morgana's lap. 

"Are you seriously that dim?" Morgana questions.

"What?" Merlin raises his head from where he's splayed facedown on the couch. Morgana rolls her eyes.

"Did you maybe stop to think that Arthur's in love with  _you?"_

"He's not," Merlin says mournfully. "He told me."

"I mean  _Emrys."_

"Oh." Merlin sits up suddenly, eyes wide. "Oh."

Morgana sighs. "Go."

Merlin nods hastily, teleporting away. He reappears in Arthur's flat, hope welling in his chest.  _Arthur loves him._

There's the sound of laughter, a key turning in the lock, and then Arthur stumbles into the flat, arms wrapped around a pretty blonde girl. She giggles and kisses him, both of them weaving drunkenly, and Merlin feels the last few pieces of his heart crumble into ash. Arthur looks up, seeming to spot him, but Merlin is gone the next instant, falling heavily onto Morgana's couch.

She startles. "Back already?"

"It's not me," he chokes out. "It's someone else, he-"

"Oh dear." Morgana's arms encircle him and he leans into her embrace, finally letting the tears fall.

"But I was so sure," Morgana murmurs, not intended for him to hear. 

_So was I,_ Merlin thinks.  _So was I._

* * *

Merlin zips up his new jacket, pulling the hood low over his face and readjusting his mask on the bridge of his nose. He flexes his fingers, feeling his magic well up inside him, turning his eyes golden.

A moment of pressure and then he's standing on the street, late afternoon sunlight slanting through the buildings and warming the pavement. He walks, drawing glances from passersby, some clutching their children tighter and hurrying on while others give him a smile.

_Emrys,_ the streets whisper.

"Thank you!" an older woman calls out. 

A man stops him to shake his hand. "This city is a better place with you here."

Two teenaged girls approach him nervously. "Can we have a selfie?"

Merlin acquiesces, letting them position themselves in front of him and snap a picture, both of them smiling widely. 

"You're my hero," one says.

Merlin smiles underneath the mask.

As he walks and interacts with the people of Camelot, Merlin's heart starts to heal. This is what he needs, a reminder of why he does this. He must push down his heartbreak, because the city is counting on him, all these people looking up to him, and he can't let them down. 

He helps an old woman with her groceries, carrying them up the narrow steps of her home. She thanks him with a plate of freshly-baked cookies, shoving it into his hands without taking no for an answer. Merlin brings them up to his rooftop and eats them while watching over the city, breathing in the crisp autumn air. 

Somewhere, tires squeal, and Merlin is there in a heartbeat, staring down the school bus as it barrels straight towards the intersection. He throws out his hands, magic leaping to his command, and the bus slows, grinding to a halt inches from his palms. He breathes, dropping them in relief.

He can hear the clicking of cameras already, cars stopped and people gawking at the scene. Merlin opens the doors of the bus with a wave of his hand and climbs in, finding the driver slumped over the wheel. A trickle of magic and the bus turns off, the driver's foot still pressed on the gas pedal. Merlin sets a hand on his chest, feeling for life.

_There._ A flutter of his heart, pulsing unnaturally under his hand. A heart attack. Merlin finds the clot, nudging at it with his magic until it breaks apart, blood flowing again through the artery. The driver remains unconscious, but he'll recover.

Merlin turns to the children peering over the seats. "He'll be fine," he reassures. "I'm going to take him to the hospital. None of you move, alright?"

They nod, and Merlin places a hand on the driver, teleporting them to Camelot General. The receptionist stares in shock as he draws a wheelchair to him with magic and lowers the unconscious man into it.

"Heart attack," he says. "I undid the clot." With that he disappears again, thankfully finding the children still where he'd left them.

"Help is on it's way. It'll be all right."

"That was  _amazing,"_ one little boy shouts.

The rest of the children agree with him loudly, previous fear apparently forgotten. 

"Mr. Emrys, can you show us a trick?"

"Yeah, I want to see magic!"

"Can you turn my teacher into a frog?"

Merlin sighs, making sparks dance in the air as the children squeal with delight. He waits until the police arrive on the scene before departing with a flourish and a bow, the children's applause ringing in his ears. 

* * *

"You're supposed to be..."

"What?" Merlin questions, propping his feet up on the dash.

"Well, dying."

"Sorry."

Lance scrutinizes his chest, as if he can see the burn through the jacket. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Positive. Morgana healed me."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it's not."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "It's fine, Lance. Gaius gave me the okay."

Lance looks mollified. "Alright, if Gaius thinks so, then..."

"You trust Gaius' judgement over mine?"

Lance gives him a look. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Merlin scowls, slumping further down in the seat and crossing his arms. "No."

There a moment of silence. Then, "How are you really, Merls? Gwen says you're moping."

"I'm not moping," Merlin mutters.

"Pining?"

Merlin glares at his boots. "No," he says unconvincingly. 

"Arthur will come 'round. You'll see." Lance's eyes are disturbingly optimistic. "Don't give up hope. Love always finds a way."

Merlin should hate Lance for his perfect relationship and perfect face and perfect hair and perfect...well, he is jealous of Lance, but he can't find it in him to be spiteful. Lance is just so overwhelmingly  _nice_ that it's impossible to hate him.

"You're a good friend, Lance," he sighs. "Thanks for trying." He pats his shoulder and gets out of the warm car, shivering as the night air seeps in through his clothes.

"Anytime," Lance responds. "Seriously, if you ever need me, I'm here."

Merlin's heart softens, another piece mending. "I know."

* * *

He's walking to his car, ready for work, when the voice echoes in his head.

_Emrys._

He freezes, turning in a circle only to find no one there.

_Help me,_ the voice repeats, that of a child.  _Please, Emrys._

Merlin walks towards the voice, trying to follow the threads of magic he feels. His eyes land on a young boy sitting huddled in the mouth of the alley, pale blue eyes staring at him from under a ratty hood.

_Please, you have to help me,_ the boy says into his mind.  _He's searching for me. He's going to kill me._

_It's alright,_ Merlin projects, moving slowly towards the boy. He crouches down in front of him, extending a hand. "You're safe now."

The boy takes his hand tentatively, his own cold and clammy and wet with what Merlin quickly realizes is blood.

"You're hurt."

The boy is pale, too pale, a sheen of sweat on his face and eyes drooping, and Merlin doesn't hesitate before sweeping him up into his arms. He looks around, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as if someone is watching him, but seeing no one he turns and rushes up the stairs to his flat, setting the boy on the couch. 

"What happened?" he asks, pulling off the boy's dirty sweatshirt to reveal a cut on his arm.

"A man tried to kidnap me," the boy says, voice identical to the one in his head and quiet, hushed. "I used my magic and got away, but he's looking for me."

Merlin nods, inspecting the wound. It's a long scrape, as if he'd fallen against something. Suddenly he remembers the way the boy had called to him and stiffens.

"Why did you call me Emrys?"

The boy frowns slightly, as if the question confuses him. "It's your name," he says. 

"How do you know who I am?"

The boy reaches out and touches Merlin's forehead, blue eyes round and unblinking. "I can tell. Your magic...calls to me."

"You're psychic," Merlin deduces, relaxing. "The mind-speak, knowing who I am...that's your power, isn't it?"

The boy nods. 

"I understand. But you can't tell anyone, alright? No one can know I'm Emrys."

The boy nods again. Merlin sets his hand on the cut and pours his magic into it, watching it close up.

"There. All better. Now, what's your name?"

"Mordred," the boy says. "My name is Mordred."

* * *

After Mordred has told him everything he knows he brings him to Arthur, dropping him off with the reassurance that he'll be nearby and Arthur is a good man. When he hears that Mordred's attacker might be Aredian, he thinks  _finally._ Finally, they can bring him down.

But Mordred simply stares at Aredian, and shakes his head, and even when Arthur crouches down and asks,  _look me in the eye and tell me it isn't him,_ Mordred looks straight in Arthur's eyes and says, "It wasn't him."

And Merlin is furious. Furious, because Aredian is right there, right in front of him, and Arthur is letting him go. Furious, because he is staring Freya's murderer, Balinor's murderer in the eyes, and there's nothing he can do. He wishes, in that moment, that he was a killer, that he could take a man's life in cold blood, because he wants nothing more than to tear Aredian limb from limb.

Aredian's eyes fix on him, cold and shrewd, and Merlin's hatred festers. 

"Do I know you?"

His fists clench at his sides, magic roiling beneath the surface. "No."

"Hmm. You look very familiar. I could swear I've met you before. Family relation, perhaps?"

All the blood drains from Merlin's face, and he knows, suddenly, that Aredian knows. Aredian cocks his head.

"Well, never mind," he says. "I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually." He tips his hat to Merlin. "Until next time."

Merlin feels cold, the world tilting on its axis.  _Aredian knows._

It's only a matter of time, now.

* * *

Two weeks pass with nothing. Merlin prowls the streets, but all he finds are a few brave muggers and broken-down cars, one lost dog and one troublesome raccoon he coaxes into leaving the poor family alone. Mordred settles into his life like he's been there all along, still silent and recalcitrant but his smiles growing brighter every day. Sometimes Merlin feels like there's something else, something he's missing, in the way Mordred eyes him strangely when he thinks he's not looking, gaze full of sorrow, in the way Mordred doesn't talk about his past, but the feeling passes as quick as it comes, and he puts it down to Mordred being traumatized by orphanages and street life and kidnapping. 

It's a seemingly ordinary evening when Merlin gets home from work, reaching for the door of his flat only to find it open. He pushes inside cautiously, magic at the ready, seeing a shadowed figure at his table. He flicks on the light.

Aredian smiles, making Merlin's blood run cold.

"Hello, Merlin Or should I say...Emrys."

Merlin tilts his chin up, knowing it's too late to deny the claim. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought we could have a little chat. Sit down."

"I'd rather stand, thanks."

Aredian shrugs. "No matter. You see, I've been watching you for a while."

"Creep," Merlin mutters.

Aredian ignores him. "I thought... _Emrys,_ what a unique name. A familiar one." He stands up, Merlin resisting the urge to back away as he draws closer. "I never knew that Balinor had a son. He hid you from me well. But  _you-"_ He chuckles. "You made no attempt to hide. Flitting around the city, pasting your name in every headline. As if you _wanted_ me to find you."

Merlin holds his ground, not letting his expression waver. "I could kill you right now."

Aredian chuckles. "I'm sure you could. Except...you kill me, and poor Hunith has a terrible accident. That is your mother's name, right? 18 Clover Lane, Ealdor?"

Merlin's fists clench and he takes a step towards Aredian, eyes blazing. "If you harm her-"

"And what about Gaius?" Aredian's mouth curves into a cruel smirk. "He is getting on in years. When we took him, I was almost afraid we had killed him. He has magic, I'm sure you know. Only a little, very latent, but it's there. I wonder what I would find if I cut him open."

Merlin is shaking, nails cutting into his palms. "I'll find him. I'll find him, and then I'll kill you."

Aredian tuts. "You'd throw away your mother's life? Morgana's?" He smiles at Merlin's twitch. "Oh yes, I know about her magic too. So you see, there's nothing you can do. One move, and your mother dies. One move, and you never see Gaius again. One move, and Morgana finds herself on my table. One move, and you dear _Arthur_ dies in the line of duty."

Merlin swallows, legs feeling unsteady and mouth cottony. "What do you want?" he rasps.

"You." Aredian reaches out, thumbing Merlin's chin, and he yanks his head away. "Your power is unsurpassed. With you, I could finally unlock the secrets of magic. It took some time, I'll admit, to figure out how to catch you. You're too powerful for my usual methods. Once Mordred had located you, I knew I had to send him in, find out your weaknesses."

The world spins. "Mordred?" Merlin gasps weakly.

"Yes, he's been a wonderful help. I ran into a bit of trouble, once I'd killed your father. I had no way to locate new sorcerers. But then I found Mordred. The orphanage said he was strange, and I thought finally I had my next subject, a boy with power sooner than usual, but he turned out to be so much more. He could find magic users, point them out to me. He could speak into their minds, lure them out into my trap. It took a little convincing, of course. Another young orphan named Kara. But once I was sure he was ready, I sent him your way."

Aredian chuckles. "And, what can I say? It worked better than I hoped. You took to Mordred immediately. So trusting, so naive, so sure that you can save everyone; that everyone is good and honest. That was your father's fatal flaw as well."

 He turns, picking up his hat from the table. "I'll give you time to say your goodbyes, of course. Meet me at the edge of Avalon park within the hour, or...well, I'm sure you know what will happen."

With that he sweeps from the flat, the door swinging open in his wake. 

* * *

He leaves the note on the table, pulling his hood up. There's one person he needs to see, one last time.

Arthur looks up at his arrival, looking tired and sad. 

"Emrys," he says. "What is it?"

"I know you don't love me," Merlin starts, and Arthur sucks in a breath. 

"What? No-"

He can't bear to hear Arthur say the words. Not now. "For once in your life, just listen. Please."

Arthur gestures for him to continue and Merlin takes a breath, stepping closer.

"I know you don't love me," he repeats, dropping the distortion. He needs this to be real, this last time. "But I love you, Arthur Pendragon. I have always loved you. And I always will, until the day I die."

_I wish we had more time,_ he thinks. He wants one more day, one more hour, one more minute, one more second with Arthur. He wants an eternity together. 

He draws closer, tears threatening to spill as he traces the lines of Arthur's face. 

"I'm sorry. For everything."  _For lying to you, for breaking your heart, for leaving you._ But not for loving him, no, Merlin can never apologize for loving Arthur. 

_I'm not enough,_ Arthur had said, and he needs him to know that it's not true, that Arthur is  _everything,_ because Arthur deserves the world, even if Merlin cannot give it to him.

You were always enough, Arthur,  _always,"_  he says, voice cracking. He reaches out, cupping Arthur's face and stroking his thumb over his cheekbone. He needs one last thing, one last memory to take with him, because even though Merlin may not be the love of Arthur's life, Arthur is the love of his.

"I have one last favor to ask."

"Anything," Arthur whispers.

_Stay with me,_ Merlin thinks. 

"Close your eyes," he whispers back instead, for he can't let Arthur see him, not now. He can't have that be his last memory of Merlin.

Arthur closes his eyes. Merlin traces the lines of his face, the way strands of golden hair fall over his forehead, and pulls down his mask, leaning in and capturing Arthur's lips.

He memorizes their shape, their softness, the way they part to let him in. He memorizes the exact taste of Arthur's lips, the feel of his cheek under his gloved palm, the heat of his body against him.

It feels like an eternity before he pulls back, fingertips trailing over Arthur's face as he looks, one last time. Then Arthur's eyelids flutter, and Merlin is gone before he opens his eyes.

* * *

The van is sitting beneath a tree at the edge of the park, fallen leaves crunching beneath Merlin's feet as he approaches. The door slides open and he climbs in, Aredian's shadowed face staring back at him.

Two men grab his arms and he doesn't resist, mind blank and numb. There's a prick as the needle slides into his neck, darkness rushing up to meet him, and his last thought before it swallows him up is of Arthur, of golden hair and blue eyes and lips on his, saying what his heart has known all along.

_I love you._  


	13. Chapter 13

_Arthur touches his lips, the world realigning as the last puzzle piece falls into place._

_"Merlin," he breathes._

* * *

Arthur runs.

The tires squeal against the pavement as he slams his foot to the gas, turning on his siren to weave in and around cars. He screeches to a halt outside Merlin's flat and jumps out, taking the stairs two at a time. 

When he tries the handle, he finds the door unlocked, bursting through to an empty flat.

"No," he breathes. "No, no no no." He checks all the rooms, all dark and empty, Aithusa sleeping curled on the couch. On Merlin's bed he finds his sweatshirt, the one he'd given to Emrys, and he sits down heavily on the bed, everything rushing in all at once.

Merlin is Emrys. Emrys is Merlin. 

It feels like the piece of the puzzle he'd always been missing, and with it he can see the whole picture clearly. It feels like finally seeing the sun through the clouds on a rainy day, like blinking open eyes to see what he'd known was there all along. 

And he has known, all along. Somewhere, deep inside, he'd known, because he knows Merlin. He  _knows_ Merlin, inside and out, better than he knows himself, because Merlin and Emrys are the same. He knows that Merlin is kind, and gentle, and good-hearted; he is also powerful, and brave, and self-sacrificing. He is all of these things wrapped up in tragedy and magic and heartbreak, and Arthur loves him with an intensity so great it steals his breath.

He does not need to decide between Merlin and Emrys, does not need to divide his heart, because they are one and the same. 

He loves Merlin Emrys.

Now he needs to save him, because Merlin had just said goodbye.

Arthur gets up, pacing to the kitchen. There, lying on the counter, is a note. He picks it up, heart pounding as he starts to read.

_To whoever reads this,_

_I'm sorry. It was the only way. I wish I could explain everything, but I can't. You just have to trust me._

_I'm following in my father's footsteps. He was a good man, I think, though I didn't know him long. Maybe he would be proud of me, maybe not. I wonder what his reasons were. Was it for love? I hope so._

_That is my reason. Love. For my mother, for Gaius, for Morgana, for Arthur. For everyone. And I am doing this because of Mordred, because he deserves that kind of love. Unconditional. Unending. Forgiving._

_Morgana should get Aithusa. They can heal together._ _Lance should get a promotion. The night shift is hard on him. Gaius really should retire, he's not as young as he used to be. Someone should find him someplace out of the way. Mordred should get a home, someone to listen and understand him. I don't know who else to include on this list, except Will and Freya. They should get peace._

_To Arthur, I'm sorry. You're a good man and a brilliant detective, and I trust you with my life. I'm sorry it wasn't enough. Someday, maybe you will understand. Maybe you'll read between the lines, and know that I loved you._

_It's too late to say goodbye, but I will. Maybe it won't change anything, but I can only hope my message gets through._

_I don't know what's next. I don't know where I'll end up. But I know that everyone I love will be safe, and that's all that matters._

_Goodbye-_

_Merlin Emrys_

Arthur frowns, reading the letter again. There's something about it, something strange... 

_Maybe you'll read between the lines..._

_I can only hope my message gets through..._

Arthur's heart skips a beat. He grabs a pen, underlining the sentences that stand out. 

_ I'm following in my father's footsteps. _

Aredian had captured Balinor, forced him to work for him. _I wonder what his reasons were. Love? I hope so._ Does that mean....

**Captured?** Arthur writes next to it. **Blackmailed? Aredian?** He moves to the next line.

_That is my reason. Love. For my mother, for Gaius, for Morgana, for Arthur.  _

**Threat?** he writes next to it. He reads on. 

_ I am doing this because of Mordred... _

Not  _for_ Mordred, like the rest of the people.  _Because_ of Mordred. Because he deserves... _forgiving_. Why would Mordred deserve forgiveness?  _Mordred should get a home, someone to listen to and understand him._

**Talk to Mordred,** he writes.  **Involved?**

_ I don't know who else to include on this list... _

List. It's a list. Of what? What do Morgana, Lance, Gaius, Mordred, Will, and Freya all have in common?

Merlin. They have Merlin in common. Could they-could they all know about his magic? It would make sense. Lance works the night shift. He and Merlin became friends allegedly when Merlin's car broke down, but Arthur thinks there's something else.  _Lance_ is the one on the inside, feeding Merlin information as Emrys. It's why Emrys always gets to crimes right after they pop up on the police scanner. And Gaius, Gaius is Merlin's uncle and knows about magic. Of course he'd know about Merlin. 

Morgana, he'd bet that she figured it out. He knows she had been meeting with Merlin as Emrys, she probably just put the pieces together before Arthur. 

**Magic,** he writes.  **Talk to them?**

One line sticks out to him.  _Gaius really should retire, he's not as young as he used to be. Someone should find him someplace out of the way._

Find him someplace out of the way. What does that mean? He puts it aside for later. 

_ You're a good man and a brilliant detective, and I trust you with my life. _

He thinks he understands this one. Merlin is pointing out that he's a brilliant detective to get him to search for clues, because his life is in danger. He's trusting Arthur to save him. The parts about reading between the lines, hoping his message gets through, they're all nudges. 

_ I don't know what's next. I don't know where I'll end up. _

Merlin doesn't know where he's being taken, or what will happen to him. 

Arthur sits back, staring at the letter and running through what he knows. Aredian has threatened people around Merlin, making him give himself up, and Mordred is part of it. 

He picks up his keys again. It's time to talk to Mordred.

* * *

Morgana opens the door with a frown, taking in his harried expression.

"Arthur? What's wrong?"

"Merlin's missing."

Morgana's expression immediately twists in horror. "What?"

"I _know_ , Morgs," he stresses.

"Know what?"

He gives her a look. Morgana quickly ushers him in, shutting the door behind him.

"Spill."

"He's been taken."

"By who?"

"Aredian."

Morgana gulps, and then she seems to compose herself, shoulders drawing up. "Alright, what do we need to do?"

Arthur pulls out the note, handing it to Morgana. "I need to talk to Mordred."

"He's asleep."

"Wake him up."

Morgana scans the note and then nods. "Alright." She disappears, returning a few minutes later with a sleepy Mordred, who blinks at Arthur owlishly. His eyes flick to Arthur's hard expression, then the note sitting on the table, and then he turns and runs.

"No you don't." Arthur grabs him, pinning him by the arms as Mordred struggles. 

"Let me go!"

"Not until you talk to us."

Mordred shouts and Arthur finds himself flying through the air, landing heavily on the floor. 

"Mordred!" Morgana's voice is like a whip-crack, and Mordred hesitates, chest heaving and eyes wide with fear. Morgana cautiously moves closer, crouching down in front of him.

"Mordred, love, no one's going to hurt you. We just want to understand."

Mordred's chin wobbles and tears spill from his eyes.

"I didn't want to! He has-he has Kara," he wails. "He said-he said if I found other magic people for him he wouldn't hurt her. All I did was find them, and-and make them come outside, I didn't-I don't know what he does to them and I didn't want to, please, you have to believe me-"

He's crying in earnest now, breaths hitching and face wet with tears, body trembling like a leaf. Arthur carefully gets up off the floor, kneeling down beside Morgana and taking Mordred's shoulders in his hands.

"It's alright," he says, even though it's not. "I understand. Just tell me what happened to Merlin."

Mordred nods feverishly. "He sent me to find him, find out everything about him. I lead Aredian to him, and pretended I had been kidnapped. I called out to Emrys in my mind. He took me into his home, and Aredian waited outside. Then he took me to you. That's all I did, I swear. All he wanted me to do was find him."

"He's missing," Arthur says harshly. "Aredian is going to kill him. Do you understand that? He's killed every one of the sorcerers you lead to him. They're dead, Mordred."

Mordred sniffles. "I'm sorry," he sobs. "I'm sorry, I don-I don't want him to die, please-"

"Then tell me where he is."

Mordred shakes his head. "He'll hurt-hurt Kara."

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen. You have to trust me, Mordred. Please."

Mordred looks up at him, blue eyes a pale imitation of Merlin's. "His mansion," he whispers. "Underground."

"Thank you."

Arthur stands up as Morgana gathers Mordred into her arms, rubbing his back soothingly.

"I'll find him," Arthur promises.

Morgana looks up. "I'm coming with you."

"You can't leave Mordred alone."

Morgana seems to think. "Gwen. I can leave him with Gwen, pick up Lance on the way."

Arthur nods. "Alright. I'll gather the men. We leave as soon as possible."

He picks up his phone, dialing the first number.

"Arthur?"

"Leon. I need a favor."

* * *

Arthur paces in his flat, gripping his phone tightly.

"You're sure he's not there?"

"Positive," Leon replies. 

"Fuck," Arthur swears, pinching the bridge of his nose.  _Someone should find him someplace out of the way._ Find him, Merlin was saying. "They must have taken him. Gaius is an old man. He wouldn't just leave in the middle of the night."

"We'll find him, Arthur. And Merlin."

Arthur exhales. "Thank you, Leon. I'll see you in a bit."

He hangs up, dialing the next number. It rings five times before being picked up.

"Hello?" the voice is rough with sleep, and Arthur feels relief flood through him.

"Ms. Ambrosius. It's Arthur. Arthur Pendragon."

"Arthur?" Hunith's voice is instantly alert. "Is something wrong?"

Arthur swallows. "It's about Merlin."

* * *

Arthur tightens the straps on his bulletproof vest, checking his sidearm in its holster. Across from him Lance, Elyan, Percy, and Leon are doing the same, Gwaine trying to sneak extra weapons under his clothing when he thinks they're not looking. 

"I expect all of those back," Arthur says sternly, pointing at Gwaine.

Gwaine snaps off a salute. "Aye aye."

Morgana slips a knife into her borrowed uniform, hair braided down her back and eyes hard and dangerous. Gwen looks up from the computer, where blueprints take up the screen, Mordred at her side.

"Bring him home," she orders.

Arthur nods. "I promise." He looks around at the rag-tag group, armed to the teeth and bristling with righteous fury. They'll find Merlin or die trying, he knows. Aside from Leon, Elyan, and Percy, everyone else had at least suspected about Merlin's magic and hadn't cared. He feels a surge of pride at their loyalty, their fierce belief in doing what's right. 

He straightens his back and takes a deep breath. "Tonight, this ends. Tonight, we fight for not only Merlin's life, but the life of all others like him. We fight for justice, and peace, and the belief that one day, we can make a better world. We fight for magic. We fight so that not one more person dies at Aredian's hand. I know it will be dangerous. I know this is barely legal. But it's what is  _right,_ and I'm going to rescue Merlin or die trying."

"Hear, hear!" Gwaine shouts.

Morgana's lip curls in a smirk. "Let's go get him, boys."

* * *

Morgana thrusts out her hands and the gates fly open with a crash, sparks illuminating the night. She stalks forwards across the grounds, gunfire erupting and bouncing off the shimmering shield she conjures in midair.

"Police!" Arthur shouts, raising his badge to the sky. "Surrender now!"

The guards hesitate and then drop their guns, raising their hands. Just normal guards then, probably without any idea of what Aredian does. The men move to secure them, stripping them of weapons and gathering them in a group as Morgana goes to each one, putting her hands on their heads.

"Sleep," she says, and they crumple to the ground. Soon all ten are sleeping soundly, and they continue across the grounds and up the steps. The door blasts open, only five guards inside this time, but these don't surrender, and they shoot darts towards Morgana that Arthur would bet contain magic suppressant. Arthur shoots two in the leg, Leon gets one, and Percy chokes out another, while Gwaine smashes a priceless vase from a shelf over the last one's head.

The staircase is hidden behind a fake bookshelf, but thanks to Gwen's technical genius and Mordred they've memorized the layout of the house, finding the secret lever easily. Morgana stands behind the threshold grimly, knowing she can't cross yet. Mordred had said that the motion sensor on the threshold activated aerosolized magic suppressant, so anyone attempting to enter would automatically be powerless. 

Gwaine gets to work on the mechanism, tampering with it without setting off an alarm. Arthur has never been more grateful to have a criminal on his side.

"Got it." He pats the wall. "Should be safe."

Morgana walks through, tensing, but nothing happens. Arthur slaps Gwaine on the back.

"Good work."

They file down the narrow staircase, emerging into a long hallway lined with rooms. Immediately, a guard fires on them, dropping with a cry from Elyan's shot. Above, they hear the sound of footsteps. It seems Aredian's backup has arrived.

"Check the rooms," Arthur orders. "Find Merlin."

They move systematically down the hallway, Morgana unlocking doors as they go. The first few contain storage, cages with mice, and what looks like a chemical lab with vials of different colored substances standing in storage, something that looks like blood under a microscope. 

The first guards descend down the steps, gunfire erupting and spraying the white-washed walls. Arthur returns fire, Morgana's shield the only thing protecting them, but the longer she blocks the bullets the more she trembles, face going pale and strained.

"I can't hold them much longer!" she shouts to Arthur. "Go, find him!"

Leon nods. "We've got this!"

Arthur turns and runs, trying the last few doors. The last one opens and he bursts inside, the click of a gun stopping him short as he raises his own on instint.

Aredian sneers, gun trained on Arthur from across a table. On it, making Arthur's heart stop, is Merlin, tubes trailing from his arms and straps holding him down, black veins snaking across pale skin. His eyes are closed and breaths shallow, shirt stripped away to reveal a scarred chest with bleeding cuts criss-crossing its length. Arthur notices with satisfaction that the room seems to be is disarray and Aredian is standing hunched, a bruise blooming on his cheek. It seems Merlin hadn't gone down without a fight.

"Let him go," he demands coldly, gun leveled at Aredian's head.

Aredian scoffs. "Let him go? When I'm so close to a breakthrough? You don't understand. This could change everything!"

"I don't care. You've murdered innocent people."

"Sacrifices must be made, for the sake of progress."

Arthur shakes his head. "No. You're wrong. Nothing is worth this."

"He is." Aredian brushes his free hand against Merlin's cheek. Merlin moans and jerks his head away, eyelids fluttering. "He doesn't just have magic," Aredian breathes. "He is  _magic itself._ He holds the key to everything. Eternal life, power, healing. Think of what we could do! We could cure cancer, solve world hunger, become immortal, all-powerful. Anything we want. It's all here, trapped in a fragile human shell. I just want to use it."

"Use it?" Arthur stares. "He's not some  _thing_ for you to use. He's a person."

"Hardly." Aredian traces a finger over Merlin's face, making Arthur nauseated. "This is just a disguise. He is human evolution at its greatest, a mutation in its purest form. You see, mutations create magic. It lives inside sorcerers, like their very own blood, its levels depending on the number of mutations. It's simple. Ingenious, really. But Emrys, he is  _made_ of magic. Every single cell, mutated, constantly creating it. An unlimited supply, if you will. Magic suppressant blocks the mutations, letting no new magic be produced without harming the sorcerer, but Emrys....to block his mutations is to kill him."

Arthur glances at the black veins spreading across Merlin's skin and swallows, realization settling in. "You're killing him. Why? I thought you needed him alive?"

Aredian's mouth twists. "I would prefer it, but he's too strong. It's no matter. Once he is dead, the mutations will still be there. I can figure out how to produce my own magic with them."

"I won't let him die." Arthur pulls back the safety on his gun, hearing the sound of distant gunfire in the hallway.

Aredian smiles cruelly. "I'm afraid you're out of time." 

_Merlin,_ Arthur whispers in his mind.

On the table, Merlin's eyes snap open, blazing gold.

Aredian fires.

There's a sensation like fire racing up his spine and power rushes through Arthur, turning the air around him golden. He is glowing, electricity arcing over his skin as the bullet disintegrates in midair, Aredian paling as disbelief washes across his face.

"You-you have magic."

"No," Arthur says, feeling a heart beat in time with his, magic wrapping around him like a lover's embrace and waiting for his command. "His magic is  _mine."_

Aredian lunges for a needle, aiming at Merlin's heart, and Arthur lets the magic go.

Aredian crumples to the ground, needle falling from his hand with a clatter, eyes wide and sightless. The power drains away from Arthur and Merlin slumps on the table, falling still. 

Arthur runs to him, fingers frantically pressing to his neck.  _There._ A pulse flutters, weak and unsteady. Arthur exhales in relief, tearing away the straps binding him and yanking the needles out of his arms. He gets his arms underneath him and lifts, cradling Merlin against his chest and making for the door, where the sound of gunfire has stopped. 

Lance comes running in, face streaked with sweat and grime and hand pressed to his side, a bullet hole in his vest. 

"Merlin," he breathes.

"He's alive," Arthur replies grimly. "But he's in a bad way. What happened?"

A grin breaks over Lance's face. "We won."

* * *

Arthur sets Merlin on the bed, uncaring of the blood on the sheets. Gaius hobbles into the room behind him, a bruise on his temple but otherwise unharmed. They had found him in another one of the rooms, along with Kara, and Hunith will be here soon. Everyone is safe. Lance has a bruised rib, Percy a bullet graze on his arm, and Gwaine a nick to his leg, but they're all alive. 

Merlin is alive.

Gaius feels his forehead and takes his pulse, frowning at the black veins still marring his skin. 

"Will he be okay?" Arthur asks.

Gaius nods. "I believe so. He's gotten a large dose of magic suppressant, but with time, he should recover."

Arthur relaxes, watching as Gaius begins to clean the shallow cuts on Merlin's chest.

"There's something I don't understand," he muses out loud.

Gaius glances at him. "What is it?"

"When I faced Aredian, I...called out to Merlin, in my mind. And he woke up. And then his magic, it....it was  _in_ me, like it was mine, and I was...glowing." He gestures with his hands at his body. "I could feel the magic, and I could control it. I killed Aredian with it."

Gaius purses his lips thoughtfully. "Interesting." He dabs at Merlin's chest with a piece of gauze. "You were born of magic, Arthur. Perhaps you are not as mundane as you think."

"You think I have magic?"

"Maybe, maybe not. You said it was definitely Merlin's magic you felt?"

Arthur nods. He'd know Merlin's magic anywhere.

"Strange," Gaius mutters. "This level of magic suppressant, he shouldn't have been able to use magic at all."

"But he didn't," Arthur replies, somehow knowing he's right. " _I_ used it, Gaius. He just gave it to me."

Gaius blinks at him in surprise. "You may be right. He could not use his power, but someone else could." He studies Arthur. "Interesting. Very interesting. You don't have magic, but you can wield it. Channel it."

"What does it mean?"

Gaius shakes his head. "I'm afraid I don't know. You will have to find that out on your own."

* * *

A hand on his shoulder jostles him from sleep and Arthur looks up to see Leon standing above him in the dim light.

"I'll take over," he murmurs.

Arthur stretches in his chair, glancing at the still form in the bed.

"I'm fine."

"Arthur." Leon's voice is firm. "Go get some real sleep. I'll watch over him."

Arthur sighs and nods, rubbing his eyes. He stands so Leon can take his place, watching the curly-haired inspector smile softly at Merlin.

"I thought you didn't like Emrys," Arthur says quietly. 

Leon glances back at him. "I didn't. Before I saw the goodness in him. He's done so much for this city, so much for all of us. When you told me it was Merlin...I expected to be surprised, but I wasn't. It just..."

"Fit," Arthur finishes, nodding. "I know the feeling."

Leon's gaze returns to Merlin. "He's good for you, you know."

"I know." Arthur reaches the door and pauses, looking back. "Thank you, Leon."

Leon turns to give him a crooked smile. "Anytime."

* * *

"Shouldn't he be awake by now?" Arthur asks worriedly, staring at Merlin's still form, chest rising and falling shallowly and skin chalk white against the sheets.

Gaius raises an eyebrow. "You only found him last night, and it's barely morning. Give him time."

Arthur sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch Merlin's hand. His skin is icy to the touch and he frowns, picking it up and rubbing it between his hands to warm it.

Gwaine saunters into the room, waving hello to Gaius and perching on the other side of the bed as he bites into an apple.

"You're needed at the precinct," he informs Arthur. "Don't worry, I'll be here."

"Comforting," Arthur mutters under his breath. He carefully tucks Merlin's hand back under the blankets and stands. "Call me if he wakes up."

Gwaine salutes sloppily. "Yes, sir."

Arthur sighs and exits the room with one last glance at Merlin, heart throbbing. He knows he has to go to work, to handle the fallout in the wake of Aredian's death and the exposing of his entire operation. He knows Morgana is hard at work writing the expose, Mordred still staying with her and Kara as well. Mordred won't face any charges, Arthur will make sure of that. He's just a child, and he'd only been trying to protect Kara by doing what Aredian wanted. He's not to blame, and he's drowning in enough guilt as it is. Arthur will have to make sure Merlin talks to him when he wakes up.

When he gets to work the precinct is abuzz, everyone staring at Arthur and whispering among themselves. Arthur goes straight to Uther's office, clasping his hands behind his back and standing ramrod straight as he waits for his father's verdict.

Uther looks up from his desk, the lines around his eyes softened somewhat. "I'm proud of you," he says.

Arthur almost falls over from shock. "Father?"

"You've closed the hardest case Camelot has ever had, and brought peace to the city. It's more than I could have hoped for."

"I..." Arthur swallows. "Thank you, Father."

Uther nods. "How is Emrys? Well, I hope?"

"What?" Arthur stares, even more off-kilter. "I thought you hated Emrys. You hate magic. Yet you...you let him go," he realizes.

"Much as I dislike magic, Emrys is a valuable ally," Uther replies. "He has saved your life time and again, and defended me on more than one occasion. He also has the virtue of being the most powerful sorcerer in Camelot. It would be...strategic, to keep him close."

_That won't be a problem,_ Arthur thinks. "Of course," he says. "I understand."

"There seems to be a...bond between you," Uther notes.

"Yes." Arthur tries to keep his voice steady. 

"I'm glad. You will need a guardian angel if you are to take my place one day, and I could think of no one I would rather succeed me. You've grown into a fine man, Arthur, and a fine inspector."

Arthur blinks, shifting from foot to foot. "I always thought..."

"What?"

"Well, that I was a big disappointment to you."

Uther stands up, rounding the desk to set his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "Well, that is my fault, and not yours. You are my only son, and I wouldn't wish for another."

Arthur nods and clears his throat, eyes suspiciously wet. Uther drops his hands.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Arthur says, changing the subject. "A constable. I believe he deserves a promotion."

* * *

Arthur returns that evening to find Gwaine gone and Hunith sitting by Merlin's bedside, Aithusa curled up by his feet. He knocks softly on the door and enters, causing Hunith to look up and smile.

"Arthur. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you. How is he? Gwaine said he woke up briefly this afternoon."

Hunith turns back to Merlin, rubbing the hand trapped between hers. "He'll be alright. I know it."

Arthur nods, sinking down onto the bed next to her and reaching out to pet Aithusa. 

"I didn't know," Hunith says suddenly. "All of this, I didn't...I didn't know. How did I not know?"

Arthur shakes his head. "I didn't either. Merlin is very good at keeping secrets."

Hunith's expression saddens, face drawn and older than her years. "Yes, he is. I raised him to be." She rubs Merlin's hand. "Growing up, with such a secret...it does something to a person. Then Will died, and Freya..." She shakes her head. "I never wanted this for him. I just wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to have a normal life."

"Merlin's anything but normal," Arthur replies lightly. 

"It's every mother's dream to think her child is special, and yet..." Hunith's eyes fill with tears. "I would give my life that it were not so."

"You don't mean that."

Hunith dabs at her eyes, sniffling. "No, I suppose not," she quavers. "I love Merlin's magic, I do. I just wish it didn't put him in harms way."

"So do I. But he's..." Arthur gestures aimlessly. "Merlin. Telling him to stop using his magic, to stop saving people, is like telling the sun to stop shining. Don't you see?" He reaches out to close his hand on top of Hunith and Merlin's. "All that suffering, all that fear, and all it did was make him kind. And he's not alone anymore. He has me, and Morgana, and Gaius, and Gwen, and Lance, and all the people who came together to rescue him. I promise you, I won't let any harm come to him ever again."

Hunith searches his eyes. "You love him, don't you?"

"Yes," Arthur replies honestly. "Yes I do."  _With my whole heart._

She smiles softly. "Then that's enough." Getting to her feet, she sets a hand on his shoulder and kisses the top of his head, making Arthur blink away tears at the motherly affection he's always craved.

"Thank you for taking care of him," she says quietly. "I'll leave you two alone."

The door shuts softly behind her and Arthur moves to sit in her vacated chair, threading his fingers with Merlin's.

"You have a lot of explaining to do when you wake up," he murmurs. He raises their joined hands and presses a kiss to Merlin's knuckles. "But I'll be here, I promise. Just don't ever leave me again, you hear me? Don't you _dare_ leave me." His voice trembles. "I can't lose you."

Merlin's fingers twitch around his. Arthur's head jerks up and he stares at Merlin's face, seeing his eyelids flutter.

"Merlin?"

Merlin's eyes crack open, fixing blearily on Arthur. Arthur lets out a sound almost like that of a sob, squeezing Merlin's hand tightly, and Merlin's lips curve upwards.

"Arthur," he whispers.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Awareness comes slowly, in waves. Sounds are first; murmured voices that swirl around him, low and high, muted and clear. Touch is next, a hand squeezing his, the rough pads of fingers sweeping over skin. Time seems to pass in strange leaps, the sensations different every time he struggles up from the inky depths clutching at him. He hears Gaius' voice, Arthur's, Gwen's, Arthur's again. His mother's hand strokes his forehead, but he's not sure if it's a dream. There's a tingle of Morgana's magic, there and gone again, and then hands on his chest, unwrapping soft gauze.

Arthur's voice pulls him towards the surface again and he opens his eyes, Arthur's blurry outline in his vision.

"Merlin?" 

"Arthur," he whispers, lips curving up because Arthur is here, looking at him with soft eyes, and everything is okay. Arthur's hand tightens around his, a tear slipping down his face, and Merlin wants to brush it away but can't move his limbs, and he wonders why Arthur is crying, wants to ask him what's wrong, but nothing comes out. His eyes droop again, darkness pulling him down, down, away from Arthur, and he clings to Arthur like a lifetime, suddenly fearing he will be gone when he next wakes.

"Stay with me," he mumbles.

"Always," Arthur whispers, and the darkness swallows him up again.

* * *

He thinks he wakes many times, but they are blurry, like looking through a smudged lens. Someone is always there, hands gentle as they steady him as he totters towards the bathroom, or help him spoon the soup into his mouth. He always falls asleep soon after, lulled to sleep by soft voices and the warmth of blankets drawn over him, awash in love and comfort. 

When he wakes for real it is to sunlight filtering through his curtains, his room all at once familiar and foreign. A warm weight on his feet and the vibrations of a purr suggest Aithusa's presence, and the light breathing to his right and hand clutching his own make him turn his head, Arthur's form resolving in his vision.

"Merlin?"

He blinks, taking a breath as sensation returns. His body aches, his limbs feeling heavy and slack, but his mind feels clear and he finds his magic sitting in his chest, a warm ball of light that pulses softly.

Arthur looks like he feels, with dark circles under his eyes and normally perfect hair unkempt, as if he's been running his fingers through it repeatedly, body hunched in the small chair by his bedside.

"Arthur," Merlin croaks. 

"Merlin. Here-" Arthur helps him sit up, positioning the pillows behind him and handing him a glass of water. Merlin's hand shakes as he raises the glass but he manages not to spill any, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. He hands the glass back to Arthur and slumps against the pillows, trying to piece together his foggy memories.

"What happened?"

Arthur studies him. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Going to Aredian, and then...." He remembers needles, and pain, the feeling of his magic writhing beneath magic suppressant, and then Arthur's voice, and then darkness.

He shakes his head. "It's fuzzy."

Realization strikes and he stiffens, hardly daring to glance at Arthur.  _He knows._ Arthur must know.

"It's alright. I know," Arthur says, correctly guessing the source of his turmoil. "And I'm not angry."

"You're not?" He risks a glance at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. 

"No." Arthur sighs. "Maybe in any other circumstance, I would have been, but all I could think of was finding you. I found your note, worked it out, and then mounted a rescue mission. It's Saturday now. You've been in and out for a few days."

"Oh." His thoughts whirl too fast for him to process. 

"I wish you had told me," Arthur murmurs. 

Merlin swallows, throat dry again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."  _For you to find out this way, for you to get hurt, to lie to you..._  

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I wanted to, but..."

"But what?"

Merlin shrugs slightly. "I thought you'd...hate me."

"I could never hate you."

Merlin hunches his shoulders, feeling small and vulnerable, laid bare under Arthur's stare.

"Merlin. Look at me."

He turns his head, finally meeting Arthur's eyes, but instead of judgement he finds sorrow.

"I could never hate you," Arthur repeats. "I  _love_ you."

Merlin blinks, blindsided. "But...I...you said..."

"I was in love with  _you,_ you idiot," Arthur says in exasperation. "I was in love with  _Emrys_."

"But that girl...I saw..."

"What girl?"

"The one with the blonde hair, I saw you."

Arthur groans, pressing his hands into his eyes. "I was lonely and drunk, Merlin, and I picked her up at a bar. I sent her home. Nothing happened."

Merlin gapes. "I thought...I..."

"You're a complete idiot," Arthur mutters. "We're both complete idiots." He drops his hands, looking slightly manic. "If we had stopped to have a bloody conversation, none of this would have happened!"

Merlin scowls. "What was I supposed to think? This isn't all my fault, you know. You can be a colossal prat sometimes."

"I know!" Arthur nearly shouts, throwing up his hands. "I bloody well know, alright! I'm a prat, and you're an idiot, and we're both incredibly stupid and oblivious and can't communicate to save our lives, and yet somehow I'm still madly in love with you!"

"Oh." Merlin suddenly smiles widely, feeling his heart skip a beat. "Oh," he breathes.

"What?"

"You love me."

Arthur looks confused. "Yes. I just said that. Many, many times."

"You  _love_ me."

"Are you alright?" Concern touches Arthur's expression. "You haven't got any brain damage, have you?"

"No, you clotpole." Merlin laughs giddily, reaching out to grab Arthur's hand. "I love you too."

"Oh." It's Arthur's turn to look breathless. He twines their fingers together, blue eyes sparkling. "Well, that's good. Great, even."

"Prat," Merlin murmurs, tugging on Arthur's hand until he leans forwards, connecting their lips. 

There's a knock on the door and they pull apart to see Merlin's mother, eyes shining.

"Merlin. You're awake."

Arthur pats his hand and lets go, getting up. "I'll give you some time." He exits the room as Merlin's mother wraps her arms around him, squeezing until he thinks he'll burst.

"Ow, mum-"

"That's what you get for lying to me, Merlin Ambrosius," she scolds, pulling back to take his face in her hands.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to worry."

"I'm your mother. I'll always worry about you." She strokes his hair. "Is this why you've been dodging my calls?"

Merlin shifts guiltily. "Maybe." He meets his mother's eyes. "I knew if I talked to you you'd figure it out immediately. I can never keep anything from you."

"But you did. You kept all this from me, for over a year, Merlin. You knew I never look at the news, all the way out in Ealdor. One look at Camelot's paper and you're plastered all over the front page."

"I know."

Her grip firms on his face. "Tell me this isn't because of your father."

Merlin looks away, ashamed.

"Oh, Merlin."

"It's not the only reason," he protests. "At first it was, but not anymore. The city needs me. What I can do...I have a responsibility to use it for good, to help people."

"You don't owe them anything."

"But what is my magic for, if not for this?" Merlin searches his mother's eyes, trying to make her understand. "This is what I'm meant to do. I know it."

His mother's eyes water and she suddenly pulls him into a hug, squeezing him briefly before pulling back and wiping her eyes.

"I know, dear," she says. "I've always known you're meant for great things. Just be careful, won't you?"

"I promise."

She smiles shakily. "I have to get back to the farm, now that you're awake, but talk to Arthur."

"Arthur?"

"I've seen how much he needs you, how much you need him. You're like two sides of the same coin."

Merlin smiles softly. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

His mother pulls him to her to plant one last kiss on his forehead. "I'm proud of you, Merlin. Never forget that."

* * *

Merlin snuggles down against Arthur's chest, yawning as his eyelids droop. Arthur chuckles, a hand coming up to run through his hair. Merlin's throat feels raw from talking, spilling everything to Arthur as Arthur listened and responded in turn. It feels like a weight has been lifted off him, not having to lie to Arthur any more, being able to share his deepest secrets without fear. 

"I'm glad you know," Merlin confesses into Arthur's soft shirt. 

"Me too." Arthur's hand trails down Merlin's neck, tracing small patterns. "I don't want any more secrets between us."

"I know." Merlin shivers at the feeling of Arthur's fingertips on his skin. "It's just...hard. I'm so used to lying that I-sometimes I don't even notice I'm doing it."

"We'll work on it. But you have to talk to me, Merlin. We have to talk to each other. No more misunderstandings."

Merlin nods against him, closing his eyes. "Tell me again?"

Arthur's arm loops around him, holding him tight. "I love you."

Merlin smiles. "I love you too."

He falls asleep to the sound of Arthur's heartbeat under him, steady and strong.

* * *

Merlin spends Sunday surrounded by friends, all of them happy to have him finally awake. They have been taking turns looking after him, he learns, even covering for him at work with an explanation of the flu. He's still tired and weak but he manages to sit up as they all gather around his bed, voices overlapping as they try to fill him in on the past few days. Arthur is pressed up next to him, one arm around his shoulders, and Merlin feels happier than he can ever remember. 

Morgana shoves a newspaper into his hands, wearing an expectant expression, and Merlin reads dutifully.

_'Witchfinder' Killed in Police Raid on Secret Facility_

_The elusive 'Witchfinder,' the serial killer who has been targeting magic-users, has been revealed to be none other than Thomas Aredian, age 60, a researcher and professor of genetics at Camelot University. He was killed just days ago in a police raid on his home, where underneath was found a lab worthy of horror films and science fiction novels. Aredian was responsible for the kidnapping, experimentation, and murder of over a dozen magic-users, and sources say he was obsessed with uncovering the mysteries of magic. In a culmination of his life's work, Aredian kidnapped Emrys, Camelot's resident vigilante and most notable magic-user, and attempted to kill him. Thankfully, Emrys got away, assisting the police in the take-down. Sources say Emrys is recovering, and we eagerly await his return in light of the most recent development: His instatement as official protector of Camelot by police commissioner Uther Pendragon._

Merlin chokes. "What?" He stares at Morgana, then Arthur. "Is that true?"

"Is our father really appointing you official protector of Camelot?" Morgana asks wryly. "Yes, it's true. I could hardly believe it myself."

Merlin gapes at Arthur, who shrugs. "You're strategic," he says. "Father would rather have you on his side than against him, and he thinks a show of goodwill might help that. Of course, what he doesn't know is that it's all completely unnecessary." Arthur smirks. "I think you've already picked your side."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Merlin says innocently. "I have very important plans for world domination, I'll have you know."

Arthur grins, eyes crinkling, and plants a kiss on his cheek. "Of course you do."

Merlin pouts, trying to stop the smile spreading across his face. Morgana rolls her eyes.

"You two are sickening."

"I think it's wonderful," Gwen interjects, from where she and Lance are perched on the side of the bed. She smiles at them. "You deserve happiness."

"Thank you, Gwen," Arthur replies. He glares at Morgana. "Harpy."

Morgana huffs, but her eyes are fond.

"I just want to say, I totally called it," Gwaine blurts. "I was just waiting for the Princess here to figure out the two people he was in love with were the same person."

Merlin frowns. "How did you know?"

Gwaine grins. "Mate, you really can't hold your liquor. You unlocked your door with magic and then mumbled something about being Emrys before passing out. Besides, you're not too subtle."

Merlin colors. "Oh."

Arthur sighs. "You really need to work on the 'secret identity' part, Merlin. Key word  _secret."_

"It's not like I meant to say it! I don't even remember that night."

"I'm slightly concerned about your drinking habits." Arthur suddenly gapes at him, pointing an accusing finger. "You! You showed up to my flat as Emrys, and got  _drunk,_ on  _my_ whiskey, and then-"

Merlin slaps a hand over Arthur's mouth as Arthur's eyes go wide. "Nope. No. We're not talking about that."

"What's this?" Morgana has a curious glint in her eye that spells trouble. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Merlin hurries to say. "Absolutely nothing."

Arthur pries Merlin's hand off his mouth, clearing his throat. His cheeks are slightly pink. "He's right. I..got confused. It was-perfectly night. I mean, perfectly normal. A perfectly normal night." He clears his throat again, nodding.

Morgana looks delighted, a grin growing across her face. "You're a terrible liar, Arthur."

"I will turn you into a toad," Merlin threatens. "I don't know how, yet, but I will figure it out, and when I do...I will. So."

"You really need to work on threatening people," Morgana sighs. "Amateur."

* * *

Merlin manages to get Gwen alone when Gaius comes and kicks everyone except her and Arthur out, citing Merlin's need for rest. 

"I'm sorry," he starts, as she sits down on the edge of the bed. "For not telling you."

Gwen gives him a small smile. "It's alright. I understand why you didn't. Plus, I had my suspicions, especially after you ran off that day Nimueh attacked."

Merlin reaches out to catch her hand, squeezing. "You're my best friend, Gwen. And I've been...I haven't been a good friend to you lately. Not just the magic, but everything. I'm sorry."

Gwen slides her other hand on top of his, patting. "I forgive you."

Merlin exhales, feeling another weight lift off his shoulders. "Don't be mad at Lance, either. I made him swear not to tell anyone, including you."

Gwen's lips quirk up. "I know. Lance already begged for my forgiveness, not that he needed it. I'm glad he was there for you."

"Me too," Merlin admits. "And I'm glad you two are alright. I'd hate to come between you."

"I doubt anything could do that." Gwen's eyes go far-off. "I just...know, you know? He's the one. I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

Merlin nods, thinking of finding home in blue eyes. "Yeah," he murmurs. "I know how you feel."

* * *

He goes back to work on Monday, welcomed back by hugs and back-slaps from all the DIs. It's strange, knowing that they know who he is, and yet they treat him no differently, if a little more awed and deferential. He thanks them for saving his life, even Leon smiling broadly and ruffling his hair as he tells Merlin he'd do it again in a heartbeat. It's almost overwhelming, having so many people know about him and not only not care, but  _accept_ him. Elyan had thanked him solemnly for all he's done for the city, and Percy had told him he'd always protect him.

Lance has been promoted to Detective Inspector, practically bursting with excitement and nervousness, and Merlin catches him just sitting at his new desk and running his hands over it in awe, obsessively wiping his nameplate free of smudges. Gwen looks happy to have Lance nearby during the day, sunny smiles returning in full force and Lance wearing a besotted expression to match. They both hover over Merlin, volunteering to help him with anything and checking that he's not about to fall over. Between them, and the rest of the men, and Arthur, he's never felt less alone. 

Work tires him out quickly, but he rests often and lets Gwen do most of the hard work, sitting at his computer and logging samples. Arthur brings him lunch at midday, and they eat it sitting in the break room, feet tangled under the table and smiles pulling at their mouths.

"Come over tonight," Arthur says, running his foot up Merlin's calf. "I'll make dinner, we can watch a movie, maybe do other things..."

Merlin smiles slyly, shivering as Arthur's foot continues its path upwards. "I'd love to."

"We'll do it right this time. No secrets."

"No secrets," Merlin repeats, smile growing.

* * *

Arthur's hand cups his cheek, mouth pressing against his softly, and Merlin parts his lips to let him in, deepening the kiss. He presses against him, Merlin stumbling backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he falls, pulling Arthur with him. Arthur settles between his legs, kisses turning heated and arousal building low in Merlin's gut as he rocks his hips up towards him, rewarded by Arthur gasping into his mouth.

Arthur's hands fumble at his shirt, unbuttoning it and pulling it off to land somewhere on the floor. He trails kisses down Merlin's neck and over the burn scar on his chest, the sensations strange through the damaged nerves. 

"Arthur," Merlin breathes, hands fluttering nervously over his scarred chest.

Arthur grabs his wrists and pins them over his head, looking Merlin in the eye.

"Don't move."

Merlin nods, breathing shallowly as Arthur continues his path down his chest, kissing over each scar with a tenderness that makes Merlin's eyes burn. He reaches the waistband of his jeans and pops the button, slowly dragging the zipper down as Merlin bites his lip, fighting the desire to squirm. The rough material drags over his legs as Arthur pulls them off, throwing them in the same direction as the shirt and making quick work of Merlin's shorts. Merlin realizes with a flush of heat that he's naked, sprawled out on the bed completely at Arthur's mercy, Arthur raking his eyes up and down his form like a starving man at a buffet.

Arthur quickly strips as well, crawling back up Merlin's body to connect their lips. His hips press down against Merlin, length rubbing along his, and Merlin arches into it, groaning into Arthur's mouth.

"Shhh. Patience." Arthur climbs off, rustling around in his drawers before returning, dropping the objects onto the bed and answering Merlin's silent demand with a kiss. He pulls back to kneel between his spread legs, muscled chest dusted with fine golden hair and eyes dark with desire as he meets Merlin's gaze.

"Alright?" he murmurs, hands roaming down to caress Merlin's thighs.

Merlin nods, nudging Arthur with his leg. "Come on."

Arthur chuckles. "So impatient." There's the click of a lube cap and then Arthur's finger presses against his entrance, making him gasp and tilt his head back against the mattress, right hand gripping his left wrist tightly to keep from moving.

"Okay?"

"Yes, yes, God,  _Arthur-"_  

Arthur holds his hips down with one hand as he works him open, until Merlin is panting and squirming beneath him, completely wrecked. He can feel his magic slipping from his control, swirling around him in sparks of gold.

"Arthur, please-"

Arthur crawls back up to cover Merlin's body with his own, crushing their lips together. He hooks an arm under Merlin's knee, drawing it up as he pushes in slowly. Merlin gasps, hands flying up to clutch at Arthur's back, nails digging into his skin.

"God, Merlin-" Arthur groans. He stops when he's all the way in, both of them panting into the space between them. Arthur's arms bracket Merlin, muscles flexing, his hair mussed and darkened with sweat and eyes dilated so only a thin ring of blue remains. He stares down at Merlin, face flushed and a soft smile working its way onto his face.

"I love you," he murmurs.

Merlin smiles back up at him, magic wrapping around Arthur and haloing him in golden light. "I love  _you_."

He tilts his head up and Arthur meets him in a searing kiss, hips starting to move in torturous strokes. Merlin's magic intensifies, filling him up, and he can tell his eyes are gold as Arthur stares, transfixed.

"Beautiful," he whispers.

His pace picks up, Merlin's nails raking down his back as their panting breaths fill the room, magic swirling around them. He watches as it crackles over Arthur's skin, sparks trailing from his fingertips and making Arthur shiver beneath his touch. Heat builds in his gut, coiling tighter; Arthur reaches between them, wrapping a hand around him, and Merlin comes with a shout, vision whiting out and magic exploding around him. Arthur comes a second later, burying his face in Merlin's neck and biting down hard as his hips stutter.

Merlin's magic settles, ghosting across Arthur's skin like a caress. Merlin thinks, distantly, that it's never done that with anyone else. 

Arthur rolls them onto their sides, reaching up to brush sweaty strands of hair away from Merlin's forehead.

"Hey."

"Hey," Merlin murmurs back, lips curving up into a smile. 

Arthur traces a finger down his cheek. "I can feel it. Your magic."

"It likes you."

Arthur's lips twitch. "Gaius says I'm a conduit."

"Hmm." Merlin's eyes droop, sleep pulling him down.

He feels Arthur chuckle lightly against him, and then Arthur carefully disentangles himself, leaving Merlin cold. He pouts, but Arthur returns only a minute later, cleaning him up with a washcloth before slipping back into bed, wrapping his arms around Merlin and pulling the blankets over them. Merlin snuggles into him, warm and happy, safe in the warm circle of Arthur's arms as he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Morgana brings Mordred over the next evening, retreating to the other room to let them talk. Merlin sits them down on the couch, taking in Mordred's downcast expression and red-rimmed eyes, fingers twisting nervously in his shirt.

"I'm sorry," Mordred blurts, finally looking up at him. "I didn't want you to get hurt but he-he said he'd hurt Kara and I didn't know what to do, and he just wanted the one thing, I didn't tell him anything, I swear-"

"It's alright." Merlin lays a comforting hand on Mordred's shoulder. "Here. Look." He pulls the small black devices out of his pocket, showing them to Mordred. "He bugged my flat. That's how he knew so many things, like about Morgana. Arthur found them after he brought me back."

"But I led him here," Mordred says quietly. "And all the others....it's all my fault." He swallows. "I would find them, and then I'd lead them outside; I said I needed help, and then he'd...." He makes a stabbing motion. "With a needle. And I knew-I knew it was bad, I knew, but I-" His face crumples, chin trembling.

"What you did was wrong," Merlin agrees, "but I understand why you did it. You were just trying to protect Kara. Aredian was scary, and you're young and vulnerable. I know you didn't want to hurt anyone."

Mordred shakes his head. "I didn't, I don't want to hurt anyone."

Merlin gives him a slight shake. " _That's_ what matters. That's what makes you a good person, and Aredian a bad one. Do you understand?"

Mordred nods shakily. Merlin takes both his shoulders, meeting his eyes evenly. 

"I forgive you, Mordred."

Mordred sobs and flings his arms around Merlin, burying his face in his chest. Merlin rubs his back soothingly, his own eyes burning with tears as something unlocks in his chest.

"It's alright," he murmurs into Mordred's hair. "It's alright. I've got you."

* * *

Merlin carefully sets a sleeping Mordred into the backseat of Morgana's car, Mordred yawning but not waking as he fastens his seatbelt. He closes the door softly, turning to hug Morgana briefly. 

"Thank you," she says softly. "He's been inconsolable all week."

"He'll need help." Merlin glances at his sleeping form. "He's been through a lot. Too much."

Morgana nods. "I'm finding him a therapist. Kara too. They're inseparable."

Merlin's lips quirk. "You're keeping them both, then?"

"God help me." Morgana sighs. "How did I end up with kids first? I was the one who was supposed to have fifty cats and never marry."

"You can still do that," Merlin points out.

"True." Morgana looks thoughtful. "Kids and cats, then. Besides, it's not like they're just mine. Mordred adores you, and Arthur as well. I expect you two to help out."

"Of course." Merlin smiles. "Then there's Gwen, and Lance and all the DI's too. They're going to have the biggest, most wonderful family ever."

"Most dysfunctional, you mean," Morgana says with a smirk. "I look forward to it."

Merlin chuckles, then sobers, watching the faint light from the streetlamp glint off Morgana's hair in the darkness. "Do you ever feel like....things could have been so different if one thing was changed? Like if Aredian hadn't killed my father, would I ever have become Emrys? What if I never met Arthur, or I never made that deal with you?"

Morgana cocks her head. "I think that...some things are inevitable, no matter what you do. Call it destiny, or fate. I think you were always going to become Emrys, and you were always going to meet Arthur and fall in love with him. Us? I don't know. Maybe there were some futures in which I take Nimueh's place, in which we are enemies. If that's so, then I'm glad we live in this one, because you're the best friend I've ever had."

Merlin blinks away tears. "Me too." He clears his throat, regarding Morgana curiously. "Did you See this? All of it?"

Morgana just smiles slyly, eyes unreadable. "Goodnight, Merlin." She rounds the car and gets in, pulling away into the darkened street as Merlin stands, staring after her.

* * *

Merlin drops to one knee, head bowed. The crowd behind him rustles and murmurs and Merlin glances up slightly to lock eyes with Arthur, standing next to his men on the precinct steps. The air is crisp and cool, a slight breeze ruffling the mask pulled over his face and catching the underside of his hood. Uther stands before him, tall and stately, but it is Arthur Merlin kneels to, Arthur who his magic belongs to. 

Uther lowers the ribbon over his head, golden pendant thumping softly against his chest.

"Rise," Uther orders, voice ringing out clearly. Merlin stands, turning to face the crowd as Uther addresses them. "I hereby name Emrys Official Protector of Camelot!" 

The crowd cheers. Merlin raises his hands and makes shimmering sparks appear in midair, shaping into a dragon that swoops over the crowd. The sun shines down through the clouds, bathing the square in gold, glinting off the heads of children riding on their parents shoulders with eyes wide in wonder. Merlin stands and looks out over the mass of people, something infinite filling his chest.  _Love._

These are hispeople, and he is their protector. 

He is their hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, and especially everyone who has left Kudos and comments! I've absolutely loved writing this story, and knowing that people out there also love my work inspires me to keep writing. 
> 
> There will either be an epilogue, or actually, I'm thinking of writing a sequel! There's still so much material to expand on and discover, and I need to use [BooksAreMedicine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksAreMedicine/pseuds/BooksAreMedicine)'s dialogue idea. I feel like I want to see Merlin and Arthur working together with him as Emrys and explore more of the knights as well as flesh out all of the supporting characters, but it didn't fit into this work.
> 
> Let me know in the comments a. If you want a sequel and b. What you would want to see in it. 
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to do art for this story, I would love you forever! Feel free to stalk me on Tumblr at [FancyHWrites](https://fancyhwrites.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Much love <3
> 
> EDIT: The sequel is started! [**We Are All Heroes**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16134077)


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